


Family Don't End With Blood

by canoftrash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Bottom Dean, Car Accidents, Castiel Has Issues, Daddy Issues, Dean Has Daddy Issues, Dean Has Issues, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M, GETS WAY MORE SAM FRIENDLY, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mommy Issues, Multi, My poor babies, Top Castiel, damn that's a lot of issues, eyes the shade of coffeemaker lights, gets more sam friendly, they've all got a lot of shit going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-21 23:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14924714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canoftrash/pseuds/canoftrash
Summary: Dean Winchester moves to New York to teach at the elite Sandover Prep. You'd think that wouldn't be much of a problem. It's got great pay, great kids, and his great ex-fiance who deserted him. Well, at least he's forming meaningful relationships with his students. (Gross. Not in that way.) One in particular, who reminds Dean exactly of who he was as a kid- but she doesn't have her own Sammy to look after.Castiel Novak, on the other hand, has dealt with a lot of shit since he unwillingly left Dean. Like, a lot. But once he moves to New York, he thinks he's in the clear. Until the new school year and the new teacher rolls around.It doesn't matter what their pasts were. Dean, Castiel, Emma, and (most of) the rest of the staff form one big, happy family, and that's what really matters.(Please keep in mind that this is a fictional universe and I'm a dumbass, so these things areprobablynot going to be accurate :)(Can you tell I'm bad at summaries?)(Also, not all the tagged characters will be in the fic- sorry!)my tumblr is @supernaturalsbestcouple and i post mostly spn and mcu, so feel free to follow!





	1. Prep Schools are for Douches

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a little warning- this does get a lot more Sam-friendly. I just wanted to explore more of s3, s4, and s5 Sam, who I wasn't a huge fan of, and hopefully uncover his motivations.

“But, like, what the  _ hell _ kind of name is  _ Sandover Prep _ ? It’s like you  _ want _ people to think that you’re a bunch of stuck up jerks.” Dean grunts as he manages to tear his pocket knife through the tape on one of his boxes.

“Dean, you’ve made that point, like, thirty-eight times.” Even through the phone, Dean can hear Sammy’s bitchface.

“‘Cause it’s true! I dunno, man, any school with ‘prep’ in the title is for douches. Ha!” Dean wrestles his pajamas from the box. “Found my PJs.”

There’s an amused pause on the other end of the line before Sam switches the topic to Feelings™. “How’re you doing, Dean?”

“I’m fine and dandy. Why’re you askin’?”

“Well, it’s the first time you’re really ‘on your own,’ isn’t it?”

Dean grunts. “Shut the fuck up, Sammy, I’m a big boy now. How’s Sarah?”

Sam sighs, and it comes through the line as a burst of static that makes Dean wince in annoyance. Sam can’t resist talking about Sarah, and Dean will exploit it to any means necessary. “She’s great. Actually, we were planning on going up to San Francisco for a weekend with some of our other friends.” At the mention of Sam’s  _ friends _ , Dean’s face twists into a grimace.

As if Sam knows what Dean’s thinking, he hurriedly tacks on, “Not Ruby or Brady or anyone. Just Becky and Zach and a few others.”

“Good.”

“Dean, it’s been two years. You can let it go.”

A hot flare of anger runs through him. He loves his brother, but  _ really?  _ “Can I though? Because you drove me into debt and out of my apartment, so I think I get to decide when to ‘let it go.’ Bye, Sammy.”

Dean chucks the phone onto his bed. He’ll never forget the weeks spent chasing Sam down. He’ll never forget discovering that Sam had sent Dean into debt with his massive heroin purchases. He’ll never forget the look on Sam’s face when Dean saw him in rehab again for the first time. The unbridled hatred had taken Dean aback.

Dean flops onto the bare mattress. The movers had delivered his furniture, but he still hasn’t found his bedsheet box. He sets to work letting out his residual anger from those years and guilt from yelling at Sam out on the boxes.  _ I'm gonna have to call him and apologize. _

The boxes, it turns out, are a great distraction. And the satisfaction of getting his home set up erases at  _ least _ half of the frustration.

...

Dean has to meet with Fergus Crowley, the principal of Sandover, the next day. Crowley is not a physically intimidating man- at least not to Dean, who’s a good four inches taller than him. Not to mention the fact that Dean’s bicep is as big as Crowley’s neck. But there’s something in Crowley’s eyes that makes Dean respect the principal, even if he is short. Dean smirks a little, watching Crowley settle himself into a grand chair that is much too big for him. Then Dean realizes that he has to sit in a chair that half his ass hangs out of.

  


”So, Mr. Winchester. I’m Crowley, as you know. I’m just going to give you a little laydown of our policies. Then I’ll have Ms. Bradbury, one of our computer science teachers, give you a tour of the building.

”You’ve already read the general rulebook, but there are some staff rules that we have. We frown upon inter-staff dating.” Crowley looks Dean up and down. “That includes one-night stands.”

Dean has a hefty salary that he doesn’t want slashed, so he reminds himself to stay calm and polite.  _ Calm and polite. Calm and polite. That’s totally doable _ .

“You cannot make the students do any assignments that you’ve never done yourself. You  _ have _ had lab experience, right?” Crowley asks.

“Yessir,” Dean replies, his nails digging into his palm.  _ Calm and polite. _

“Sexual harassment is not tolerated here. You make one unwanted comment to another staff member, you’re fired.” Crowley looks Dean up and down a little. “You’re pretty. You’ll have seniors coming to you and propositioning you.” Dean shudders, and Crowley continues. “If you take them up on it, I’ll fire you. And trust me, I know when it happens. How do you think this job opened up?” Crowley smirks. “If I think of any other rules, I’ll email them to you. Ms. Bradbury’s outside.”

Dean leaves Crowley’s office and walks straight into a petite redhead.

“Are you Bradbury?” he asks. She’s wearing a Star Trek shirt, which immediately endears her to Dean.

”Just call me Charlie. Also, you do know that our dress code isn't formal at all, right?”

”I’m Dean- Dean Winchester. I did not know that.”

Charlie laughs. “Sounds like something Crowley wouldn’t tell you. It's not. You can wear whatever you want, as long as it follows the student dress code. You look really uncomfortable in that monkey suit.” Dean looks down at his suit. He can’t disagree. Charlie gestures to the wide expanse of empty hallway. “All right, let’s get this show on the road!”

…

Dean and Charlie are instant friends, which makes the tour infinitely more bearable. “All our classes are highly advanced, but we make it a rule not to give the kids too much homework. All it does is make them cranky and overworked. It makes it harder for everyone,” Charlie explains.

Dean snorts. His idea of homework was- well, none. “I hardly ever did my homework when I was in high school, and I’m not gonna expect them to.”

“Good,” Charlie says as they take a turn into a funky-ass hallway. It’s different from the rest of the modern, sleek school- there are stones lining the walls and  _ holy shit, are those real swords mounted on them? _ “Those swords are real, but they’re completely dull and bolted to the racks. This is the history hallway. The head history teacher, Professor Visyak, is a  _ huge _ sword buff. She loves all this stuff. She’s really careful about them, though, so don’t go touching them,” Charlie warns as she sees Dean’s hand inch towards them.

Dean nods and pulls his hand back. “Good to know.”

Charlie laughs. “So the professors in this hallway are Cain, Professor Visyak, Professor Davies, and Professor Novak.”

Something in Dean shivers at the name Novak.  _ It’s been a long time since Cas, and it’s not even the same guy. Chill, _ Dean tells himself.  _ But Novak’s not a very common name! _

Dean honestly doesn’t know what he’d do if it  _ was _ Castiel Novak, professional asshole, teaching here, and he doesn’t want to think about it for too long. “Why no ‘professor’ for Cain? I thought everyone here had a doctorate,” Dean comments instead.

“Oh, Cain is smart as all hell. He’s on track to have, like, the same amount of doctorates as Visyak. And Visyak has seven. But we all just call him Cain. Nobody even knows his first name.”

“Damn.”

“‘Damn’ is right.” They continue walking, and Charlie asks, “So where were you before this?”

“I worked at, uh, this one company for around three years, and then Crowley’s company before this. It was a pretty nice gig, but my contract was only three years, and the salary here is better. Which is wild. Like, half the school is on scholarships.”

Charlie seems to tense up. “You got anything against scholarships?” she says, obviously trying to play it off as a joke.

Dean’s eyebrows raise. “Hell no. I put myself through college on scholarship and loans alone.”

“Oh, alright! I hate those shitbags who talk shit about scholarship students. I got through college on scholarship too,” Charlie tells him as her shoulders slump in relief. “Where’d you go to college?”

“MIT. Graduated early and started working immediately,” Dean says, a bit of tension leaking into his voice. College and working for Alastair, Inc., weren’t exactly the best years of his life.

Charlie seems to catch onto his mood shift. “Cool! I went to Princeton and graduated early, too. Started working here as soon as I got out. I like this place. The parents are all too scared of Crowley to raise any fuss about stuff, but Crowley’s got good morals. Well, I shouldn’t say that, but he’s not a bigot, and he doesn’t care what we say as long as it’s not bigoted either. Which is pretty nice.”

“They’re scared? Of  _ Crowley? _ ” Dean asks skeptically. The principal may command respect, but he’s not very  _ scary _ .

“He owns pretty much all the big companies in America, the UK, and most of Europe,” Charlie explains. “That’s where all the parents who would usually make a fuss work. Crowley knows their salaries, so he makes them pay the fees that keep this school going. The students whose parents  _ don’t _ work for Crowley usually got in on talent. And the staff here is so good that nobody wants to leave. We’re one of the best schools in the state.”

Dean snorts. “One time nepotism  _ isn’t _ working out for them.”

Charlie’s a good conversationalist, and they have many of the same tastes, so Dean finds himself with a close friend by the time the tour is over. Which is weird, seeing as Dean’s of the opinion that he’s not exactly a person who people want to hang out with. Nonetheless, Dean leaves with plans to marathon Star Trek the next weekend at his place.  _ At least that gives me some motivation to clean. _


	2. He's Not Dead

New school years are not Castiel’s forte. There are new students everywhere, and while Castiel will surely bond with them over the course of the year, they are  _ everywhere _ . The freshmen don’t have a clue where the hell they’re going, and Castiel can’t step outside in fear of some poor new student asking him where a classroom is. And the head history teacher, Professor Visyak, does not want her teachers leaving their rooms before school starts. Especially during the first week. Just one of her many quirks, Castiel supposes. He learned to start carrying a travel mug to school in the second week.

 

Fortunately- or unfortunately, as some would see it- the science and English departments have no such restrictions in place, so Meg Masters decides to swing on by with her girlfriend Pamela Barnes in tow.

 

“Clarence!” Meg smiles, paying no heed to the seven students already in the classroom. “You feeling them first-day jitters yet?” She swipes his  _ gourmet coffee _ off his desk and gulps half of it down at once.

 

Castiel turns around from the whiteboard where he’s written his name. He catches Pam staring at his ass. “Cassie, have you been working out?” she asks with a smirk. Meg hits her arm. “Just teasing, Cassie. I’ve got a hot piece of ass here that I wouldn’t trade the world for.”

 

“What a sap.” Meg smirks.

 

Castiel indicates the whiteboard. “I’ve written my name up there, you know. ‘Professor Castiel Novak.’ There’s no Clarence anywhere in there. Nor a ‘Cassie.’”

 

“You forgot the Shirley,” Pam says in a hushed, conspiratorial tone.

 

Castiel rolls his eyes again. “I don’t understand your hyperfixation with my other middle name.”

 

Meg hops up on his desk. “Aw, you’re no fun. You know what, maybe the new teacher has an embarrassing middle name. Maybe we can tease him.” She grins as Castiel takes his coffee cup back.

 

Castiel pities the poor man. Yet he has to admit, he’s curious about him. He doesn’t know the man’s name, but Meg says he’s “hotter than hell,” and even Charlie has backed it up. Castiel somewhat regrets being in Illinois all summer. Charlie said that she and the new teacher-  _ Dan? Damien? _ \- had a Star Trek marathon and that she had “missed her favorite Spock.”

 

“No, I’ve read over his file,” Pam says, cutting into Castiel’s thoughts. “It’s a perfectly normal name. ‘Dean Michael Winchester.’”

 

Castiel drops his  _ specially insulated $40 travel mug. W _ hich contains his  _ gourmet, $40 a bag coffee. _ And it shatters and spills all over the only nice shoes he’s thought to buy.

 

…

 

_ “Dean Michael Winchester, I may just have to marry you.” _

 

_ “I may just have to accept that proposal.” _

 

_ “‘Dean Michael Winchester, 25, has succumbed to his injuries after a devastating car crash. He died at 5:08 PM on September 18, 2012, eight hours after the accident, in Pontiac County Hospital. He is survived by his brother, Samuel Luke Winchester, 21, his surrogate father, Robert Singer, 54, and his father, John Eric Winchester, 50…’ I’m sorry, Castiel, but your…  _ boyfriend _ is dead. He died almost a year ago.” _

 

“What the hell, Cassie? These are my good shoes,” Pam hisses, pulling Castiel out of his reverie. “What, do you know the guy or something?”

 

Meg seems to realize that something’s off with Castiel. “We’re all good,” she tells the students who have looked up at the commotion.

 

With a shaky hand, Castiel picks up the pieces of his mug and puts some paper towels from his desk onto the coffee spill. He leaves the room with Meg and Pam trailing him and eighteen minutes to the bell, Visyak be damned.

 

Once they get to an empty teachers’ lounge, Castiel finally speaks. “I thought he was  _ dead _ .”

 

“ _ That’s _ not creepy as hell,” Pam remarks. “What does that mean?”

 

“My mother even gave me the obit. There’s a picture of him. There’s even a grave. I  _ saw his grave _ ,” Castiel mutters to himself.  _ How can he be alive? _ “I went  _ to his grave _ .”

 

“It could be a different Dean Michael Winchester,” Meg offers.

 

“How many Dean Michael Winchesters are there?” Castiel hisses. The world feels like it’s a giant rug that’s been swept out from under his feet.

 

“Hold up, I have a picture,” Meg says. She pulls out her phone and fiddles with it for a few seconds. “Is this him?” she asks, holding out her phone and showing Castiel a picture of Charlie and-

 

Castiel feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. The freckles. The high cheekbones. The cut jawline. The long lashes. The plush lips. The  _ body. _ And those  _ eyes _ \- so  _ expressive _ , so  _ intelligent _ \- how the hell could it  _ not _ be Dean? “That’s him,” Castiel rasps.

 

“What the everloving  _ fuck _ ?” Charlie sweeps into the room, her red hair trailing behind her. “What did you guys do to him? He looks like he’s gonna pass out.”

 

“You know Dean Winchester?” Pam asks.

 

“Yeah? Where’s this going?” Charlie responds.

 

“Turns out Cassie over here thought that he was  _ dead _ .”

 

Charlie’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. “Like,  _ dead _ dead?”

 

“There’s a  _ grave _ ,” Castiel says. He’s still having trouble wrapping his head around the fact that his ex-fiance is  _ alive. _ “I get held hostage in Italy and I come back and my family doesn’t want me and my fiance was dead and now he’s  _ alive? _ ” Castiel realizes that he’s babbling, but he can’t seem to stop it. “He can’t be alive, because I cried there. And I came back every damned day until I had to move to New York. And I  _ still _ go back there every September 18th, so what the _ fuck? _ ”

 

Charlie starts massaging his shoulders and pushes him into an armchair. “Okay, Cas, start from the beginning. Take a deep breath.”

 

Castiel complies. After a few controlled breaths, he starts to feel like he has control of his voice again, and he launches into the story of how he fucked everything good in his life up. “Uh, Dean and I started to date nine years ago. September 18, 2007. It was the second-best day of my life. And then we got somewhat engaged exactly three years later, which was the best day of my life. And then I went to Italy for what was intended to be a week. But then my aunt made me stay there and run her fucking  _ drug cartel _ because I have a major in business. I mean,” he says, starting to laugh, “how  _ absurd _ is that? And I thought Dean would look for me. But turns out that my aunt forged a letter from me to him, saying that I’d be staying in Italy and that I needed to get away from him. And then I only got out because I notified the police, and it was a small drug cartel but they all got the death sentence because-” Castiel is cut off by his laughter, which he fights to keep under control. He laughs for a good five seconds before continuing. “Because the man who had killed the  _ least _ amount of people had killed  _ three _ drug dealers for not raising enough money. It was the most death sentences handed out at a time, apparently. And then I came back to the States, and my mother told me that my fiance was killed in a car accident. And then she kicked me out because I was pansexual.” Castiel keeps laughing, his shoulders shaking with uncontrollable hysterics. “So I went to the town where Dean died, and I worked in the museum there, and then I got hired here. But I abandoned my  _ family _ .” For some reason, Castiel thinks this is the most hilarious statement of all, and he actually falls out of his chair.

 

When his giggles abate a little, he looks up. “You need to take the day off,” Charlie says, concern bleeding into her tone.

 

Castiel immediately sobers up. “No. Visyak would be  _ furious _ .”

 

“Clarence-” Meg begins.

 

“This happened over  _ four years ago _ . I’m completely fine.” Castiel stands and dusts off his trenchcoat.

 

“Tell Visyak, she’ll let you-”

 

“No,” Castiel says with a glare that Dean referred to as his “smiting glare.” “None of you can say anything about this. It’s a legal issue too.” It’s not, but they don’t need to know that.

 

Castiel decides to think about why his emotions swung so quickly.  _ Maybe it’s a sign of old age, _ he asks himself, trying to distract himself with thoughts of anything other than those horrible years. “Let’s just go to class. There’s only three minutes until the bell.” And without leaving Meg, Pam, or Charlie any time to say- much less  _ do _ \- anything, he stalks out of the lounge and back to his classroom.

 

…

 

It’s rather hard to teach after that, but Castiel manages. “I’m Professor Novak. You all can call me whatever you’d like as long as it contains some part of that title,” he tells the students. “Uh, what grade are you all?”  _ Maybe I’m more shaken than I assumed _ .

 

“We’re sophomores,” a girl in the second row reminds him.

 

“Oh. Yes, of course. All right, we’re going to go around and introduce ourselves, and then we’ll go over the, uh, syllabus. Just say your name and…” Castiel had a whole powerpoint for this. “Something you did over the summer.”

 

Castiel zones out as the students introduce themselves, only catching a few names. Krissy Chambers was the student who had told him their grade, and Aidan Holt and Josephine Barnes are the kids sitting next to her. Emma Cobalt is a student seated in the far back row, and Claire Mills is sitting next to her. It’s somewhat pathetic that those five are all that Castiel remembers, and after the syllabus is presented, he barely remembers to set out the lofthouse cookies that he brings at the start of every year.

 

It doesn’t exactly matter, though, seeing as Dean Winchester is alive, well, and in the same goddamned building as Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if the characterization was a little off in this one! again, feel free to like and comment!


	3. Three Bombshells Too Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor dean. all the shit i'm gonna put him through plus the shit he eats is gonna lay him out with a heart attack. (well, not in this fic.)

The bell rings, and Dean’s seventh period students- mostly sophomores, with a junior or two mixed in- start to trickle in. With Sandover’s block schedule, he has to see these little fuckers for an hour and a half at a time at the end of the day, so he’s hoping he gets a good class. He props his feet up on the desk and takes a hearty swig from his coffee mug and pulls up a PDF of the syllabus, projecting it onto the SMARTboard. The students talk and giggle as they file in, one by one, and Dean  _ swears _ he hears that Novak guy’s name in quite a few conversations.

Dean’s been putting off searching Novak in the school staff database. He doesn’t think he could handle it if it really  _ is _ Cas-  _ he’s not Cas anymore. He’s Castiel Novak, professional asshole, remember? The guy who sent you a fucking  _ letter _ that he was leaving you and needed to get away from you? _

It’s a fucking futile exercise, to be honest, because now Dean’s thinking about Cas’s eyes. The bluest blue to ever blue. The shade of blue that matched the lights on Cas’s fancy coffeemaker- a Christmas gift from Dean.  _ Really? That’s a lame analogy. And remember, he’s the professional asshole, right? He took his fucking  _ coffeemaker _ to Italy. That should’ve tipped me off. _

Cas had taken that coffeemaker with him on a two-day trip to New York. A  _ week _ in Italy was completely plausible.

_ Does he still have that coffeemaker? _

_ It doesn’t matter, because he’s an asshole, remember? _

Dean is just getting set up for a thrilling argument with himself when the bell rings and he’s faced with twelve students who look  _ very _ apprehensive, all clustered around three of the six tables. “Sit wherever you’d like,” Dean jokes. He’s met with silence. “All right, tough crowd,” he mutters. “I’m Professor Dean Winchester. Call me whatever the fuck you want. I honestly don’t care.” He writes his name up on the board. “Uh, my office hours are… well, I haven’t figured that out yet, but come whenever you’d like and there’s a good chance I’ll be here. I’ll have office hours up by next Monday. Uh… let’s go over some ground rules first. All your shit goes in the cubbies back there,” he says, indicating towards a row of lockers. “You can eat, just don’t fuck up my room. Unless we’re doing labs. You probably won’t have homework, unless you’re fucking around and don’t get your work done. Swearing is okay in here, but if I hear  _ any _ derogatory language, I won’t hesitate to send you to have a chat with Crowley, and I hear he’s not very lenient with that shit. Uh… this class should be pretty decent. I’ve got some good stuff planned. Once we go over names, I’ll go over the syllabus and grading policy and that should be that. Questions?” Not a single kid raises their hand.  _ That’s okay. I probably won’t know the answer to half of them anyway. _ “Okay, gimme your names.”

As they say their names, Dean surveys them. They all look like decent kids- well, except for one douchebro-looking type named Eli Styne. Styne’s a junior.  _ Figures. _ Dean’s eyes linger on the kid who introduced herself as Emma Cobalt. Something about her is off- maybe it’s the huge sweater or the concealer caked on her face. Maybe the kid’s getting into fights. But he can’t do anything without proof, so he gives the kids a rundown of the syllabus and lets them use the remaining ten minutes however they want.

_ Oh, she won that award! _ Dean thinks. He pulls open his drawer and looks at a shiny plaque that says “EMMA COBALT: RECIPIENT OF THE BUILDING BRIDGES AWARD.”

_ Christ, couldn’t they have come up with a better name for it? _ Dean asks himself as he looks through the kid’s file to find out what the award was for.  _ Can’t believe it’s literally just called that for designing a cool bridge. _

His eyes skim the file once more to see if there’s anything else he should know about the award, and then he sees her schedule.

More importantly, her first period class. Or should he say, the  _ teacher _ of her first period class.

_ “First Period: APWH1, Castiel J. Novak.” _

Dean almost drops the plaque, which is still in his hand. Fuck this day.

…

“Uh, Emma,” Dean calls as the class ends, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.  _ Cas is  _ here _. Holy shit _ . “They told me to give this to you. Congrats!”

Emma takes the proffered plaque. “Uh, thanks,” Emma says. Her eyes are darting all over the place, and when she turns around to grab her backpack, she winces.  _ Something’s up _ , Dean thinks. As if she can read Dean’s mind, Emma practically sprints out of the room. Dean frowns. Fishy as hell is what  _ he _ thinks about it.

It’s soon put out of his mind, though, when Fergus Crowley himself storms in, with Bobby Singer in tow. “Bobby?” Dean exclaims at the sight of his surrogate father. “What the hell’re you doing here?”

“I’m your head of department, idjit,” Bobby says. “How’d you not put that together? I  _ told _ you I moved to this crazy-ass city to marry Ellen. And that was almost five years ago. And I told you, I get off work at three. Where else would I work that lets me off at  _ three _ ?”

“Well, I didn’t know you were workin’  _ here, _ ” Dean says.

“You didn’t bother to take a look at the name of yer head of department?” Bobby asks.

“I was told ‘the head of engineering is out of town and won’t be back until the first day!’”

“Still,” Bobby says. “I know yer brain is bigger than that, boy.”

“However  _ touching _ this reunion is,” Crowley growls, “This man has dropped out from running the Sandover Engineering Contest, and Jo Harvelle isn’t able to run it either.”

“Now, don’t be shit-talkin’ my stepdaughter,” Bobby warns. Dean’s only met the woman a few times- at Bobby and Ellen’s wedding and whenever Dean found the time to make the long drive from Kansas- but she’s a firecracker.

Crowley glares at him. “Winchester. It’s your first year here, but you need to run this. All you need to do is judge which student comes up with the most innovative design for whatever the bloody fuck they want, and you need to make sure that their prototype  _ works _ . It’s extra hours, since some of the poorer students have the option to come here to work since they don’t have labs at home, but I’m the principal and I’m telling you to.”

Fuck this. Dean wants to groan out loud, but seeing as it’s his first day and all, he settles for an “alrighty then.”

“Good,” Crowley says before stalking out.

“Sorry for throwin’ you into this like that. I’m gettin’ old, though, boy,” Bobby says.

“You’re like, sixty,” Dean grumbles.

“Whatever. I’ve gotta be goin’ now, but you come on by to my apartment this Saturday, boy. Me an’ Ellen’ll fix you up some  _ real _ cookin’.”

“Bobby, I can cook better than you.”

“Not better than Ellen.”

Dean can’t argue with that. “Whatever,  _ old man _ .”

…

The contest officially starts on September 22, so Dean’s afternoons are practically free for the next two weeks- especially since half the school, including Charlie and some other teachers, catch the flu. Dean spends his free time bringing Charlie soup on a regular basis, swapping days with her girlfriend, Dorothy. He feels bad for the poor woman- her voice is completely gone, and Dean can pretty much always find her leaning over the porcelain throne or passed out. Thankfully, neither Bobby nor Ellen and Jo catch it, and Dean can spend time with them without fear of being infected. Ellen, Jo, and Charlie become family almost immediately to him, so Dean resolutely avoids calling Sam- and Sam never initiates their calls. So when Sam calls him, two Wednesdays after school starts, Dean immediately goes into panic mode.

“Sammy? Are you okay? What’s going on?” A small part of him, deep down, thinks,  _ If he’s relapsed, he better have used his own damn money. _ And then Dean hates himself for even thinking it.

“Nothing! Nothing, Dean, I’m fine,” Sam says. It feels like an elephant has stepped off of Dean’s chest.

“Jesus Christ, thank god.”

“That’s kinda contradictory.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean says. “That better?”

Sam snorts, and Dean feels like he’s four again, unused to hearing his baby brother laugh. “It’s been a while since we talked, and I want to apologize,” Sam tells him.

Dean pauses. There’s no way Sam would be telling him that. “Is this a joke?”

“No, Dean, I’m serious. It was your money that I used, and I put you in a shit situation, so it’s  _ you _ who decides when you get over it.”

There’s another pause, and then Dean feels his face breaking out into a smile. “Sarah told you to say that, didn’t she.”

“Well…”

“Called it.”

“Okay, well, I was bitching about our last call, and she basically told me to get my head out of my ass. And I realized that I  _ did _ have my head in my ass.”

Dean starts laughing, and suddenly all anger he harbors towards Sam is gone. Now he kind of wants to tell Sam about Cas. “Sammy, marry that girl,” he says instead.

“I’m trying.”

Dean’s eyes bug out, and he drops his phone. “Fuck.” He picks it up-  _ thank god, it’s not broken _ \- and puts it to his ear again to hear Sam’s laughter. “Oh, fuck you. That was a bombshell.”

Sam’s laughter dies down. “Well, kinda. But I was thinking… well, you’re still visiting us over winter break, right?”

The uncertainty in Sam’s voice makes Dean’s guilt surge. “Obviously, Samsquatch.”

“Okay. Uh, maybe if she says yes we’ll be getting married by then. I don’t think she wants a fancy wedding either. Uh, do you still have Mom’s ring? Not the ring you wear, the engagement ring. Sarah’s the same ring size, and I want to propose to her… well, this weekend.”

A sense of pride blooms in Dean’s chest, and he smiles. “I’ve got it, and I’ll send it through expedited shipping. She’ll totally say yes. How are you going to propose?”

“We’re going to go to this travelling gallery. I heard about it and the plans all came together. And then I asked them if they could put up a special painting, and it’s gonna say, ‘will you marry me?’”

Dean grins so hard his cheeks hurt. “That sounds like a great plan, Sammy. All right, now let me talk to my favorite sister-in-law.”

“Don’t tell her!” Sam hisses.

“Of course not.”

Sam hands off the phone, and Sarah’s voice comes through the speaker. “Hello?”

“Sarah! Are you taking care of the Samsquatch?”

Sarah laughs. “He’s still eating his rabbit food, but I’ve got him eating more meat than chicken and fish, so that’s a plus.”

“Good, good. How’ve you been doing? How’s your degree coming along? It’s your last year, right?”

Sarah and Dean get into a conversation about her doctorate and how her father is giving the business to her, and Dean finds himself relaxing for the first time in two weeks. And then Sarah says, “I have to go. Oh, before I forget- I think I might be pregnant.”

And then she hangs up the fucking phone.


	4. Professor Asshole's Asshole is Irrelevant

Dean stares at the useless hunk of metal in his hand. “What the fuck,” he whispers. “Not cool, Sarah!”

He needs a drink. Several, actually, would be nice- school night be damned.  _ You know what? I’m going to go get laid. _ Dean takes a quick shower and gets dressed. He grabs a jacket and his keys and leaves his building, looking sadly at the “garage” button in the elevator. It’s been a week since he’s driven Baby, and a week is a week too long.

Instead, he walks the half-block to the bar closest to him. It’s dingy and probably not the best place to go, but he doesn’t really care, because a  _ lot _ of gay and bi men frequent the place. He sits down at the counter and immediately pounds two shots.  _ Maybe I just wanted to drink. _ Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice the man sitting at the opposite end of the bar until he’s five shots in.

“Profess-  _ professor _ asshole!” Dean exclaims, catching a glimpse of dark hair and a trenchcoat. Professor Asshole doesn’t answer, and Dean calls his name again, before remembering the guy’s real name. “Oh- Cas!”

Cas turns his head to look at Dean. His eyes are bloodshot and there are twelve overturned shot glasses around him. “Dean.”

Even drunk, Cas has a laser-stare.

Dean stumbles his way through the bar and sits on the stool next to Cas. “Hey there, Professor Asshole. Can I buy you a drink?” he slurs.

“No, no. I can buy you an Italy, though,” Cas responds. “It’s not my fault I got kidnapped. I didn’t want to leave you. My aunt sent you a fake me.” Cas giggles. He drunkenly gestures for two shots, still staring.

“Tequila!” Dean and Cas say in unison. They both break out into giggles.

The bartender comes over and Dean turns to look at him. He looks slightly concerned, but Dean doesn’t care. “This is y’alls last one,” he says.

“Noooo,” Cas whines.

“That’s okay, Professor Asshole. You’re hot, so drinks don’t matter,” Dean tells him, putting a finger on his lips.

“I really am Professor Asshole. But it’s not my fault. I told you, I got kidnapped, and my aunt is a faaaaaker.” Cas rests his head on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean takes Cas’s face between his hands and forces him to stare at Dean. “It’s okay. You’re here, so it’s alllll good.”

Cas starts tearing up. “Really?” he asks, smiling from ear to ear. The bartender brings the drinks by.

“Duh.” And then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, Dean drunkenly brings Castiel’s lips to his.

Kissing someone when you’re both drunk isn’t the best idea. Their teeth clink against each other and their tongues are slobbery, but Dean’s kissing Cas, and even through the haze, he can feel the euphoria.

He pulls away. “Where do you live?”

Cas attempts a wink. “Why do you want to know?”

“I want to-” Dean drops his voice to a whisper- “you know.”

Cas’s eyebrows shoot up on his face. “Oh.”

Dean nods.

“Ohhhh.” Castiel digs out a wad of cash and slaps it on the counter, and then he takes Dean by the hand and they stumble out onto the street.

…

Rush hour traffic ensures that both Cas and Dean aren’t completely drunk by the time they arrive at Cas’s apartment, but Dean is too horny and drunk on Cas to care about what happened six years ago because there’s things going on that are much, much better. “Are you sure?” Dean whispers, still not very sober, against Cas’s neck as Cas fumbles to unlock his apartment door.  _ I guess Cas isn’t too sober either. _ For some reason, that’s the funniest thing in the world to Dean, and he starts laughing.

The door swings open and they fall through, and Cas starts giggling too. “Yes. Are you?” Cas asks through his laughter as he falls against a wall.

“Completely.”

All giggles are gone after the word is out of Dean’s mouth. Dean barely registers the sound of the door slamming and locking and Cas’s shoes being kicked off before Cas’s hot mouth is on his. They’re swaying, but it doesn’t matter, since Cas is grabbing his collar and pushing him up against the wall. The man’s mouth has rendered him almost incoherent, and in the small part of his brain that’s not been dominated by his fucking horniness, he thinks,  _ Cas doesn’t like people wearing shoes in his house _ , and manages to toe off his shoes before Cas deepens the kiss and Dean feels like his brain has shorted out.

Dean’s close enough to sober to be embarrassed at the sounds he’s making as Cas puts his tongue to work, darting in and out of Dean’s mouth as Cas grinds against him, one thigh in between Dean’s legs. Dean’s erection swells, and he can feel Cas’s cock grow against his thigh. Cas wrenches Dean’s jacket off and yanks Dean’s button-down off of him, which does wonders for Dean’s dick. Buttons fly everywhere and then one of Cas’s huge hands is twisting one of Dean’s nipples. Cas moves his mouth to Dean’s neck as Dean pushes the trenchcoat-  _ it’s a new trenchcoat, when did he change it? _ \- off of Cas’s shoulders. Cas bites down on the juncture between Dean’s neck and shoulder and  _ damn _ Dean didn’t know pain could feel so good. Dean fumbles with the buttons of Cas’s shirt before Cas fucking  _ growls _ and rips his own shirt off. Dean gasps at the expanse of tanned, toned skin on Cas’s chest-  _ damn you, alcohol _ \- and all he can think is  _ the tie is still on the tie is still on oh my fucking god that’s so hot. _ Dean wraps his hands around Cas’s back, pulling their chests flush with each other. The heat of Cas’s chest against his feels so fucking good that he vaguely thinks he’s high. Both of Cas’s hands slip under the waistband of Dean’s jeans, and his mouth keeps sucking and biting at Dean’s neck. Dean digs his nails into Cas’s back and tilts his head back as far as it can go. Cas takes his hands from in Dean’s pants and puts them under Dean’s ass, and Dean can barely say “I’m not as light as I was” before he’s being lifted and carried through a hallway.

He wraps his legs around Cas’s waist and both of them crash down onto what he assumes is Cas’s bed. He rolls so that Cas is below him, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Cas’s mouth before sliding down and sucking and biting Cas’s neck, leaving behind a garden variety of hickies on Cas’s neck and shoulder. The moans that Cas lets out should be in a porno, and they only grow louder as Dean starts working on Cas’s nipples. “Get- get my pants off, Dean,” Cas orders, gasping as Dean runs his teeth along Cas’s right nipple.

“Yessir.” Dean salutes and smirks when he puts his hand on Cas’s huge, rock-hard cock. Dean’s had some pretty stupid drunk-to-sober one night stands, but this one might take the cake. He can’t find it in him to care. He flicks Cas’s nipple with his tongue, reveling in the filthy sounds that come out of Cas’s mouth, and uses the opportunity to undo the button of Cas’s pants. He pulls down the zipper with his teeth, pushes Cas’s pants out of the way, and brings Cas’s underwear down with his teeth as well.

Cas sits up and pushes down his pants and underwear the rest of the way. He grabs Dean under the arms and hoists him farther up on the bed, then pins Dean’s arms above his head with one fucking  _ enormous _ hand before taking Dean’s pants and underwear off in one fell swoop. Cas hovers above him, his pupils blown, his chest heaving, and his hair mussed to high hell, and it’s quite possibly the hottest thing Dean has ever seen. “Do you want me?” Dean smirks.

“There’s no universe where I would say no.”

And Dean decides to forget whatever Cas has done to him because he’s  _ right here _ and Dean has missed him  _ so much _ and  _ of course that’s something Cas would say. _ Cas is right here. “Come and get me, then,” Dean tells him.

Cas dives back down and kisses Dean like a dying man. “Lube,” Cas groans in between kisses.

Dean reaches over as Cas continues kissing him.  _ Cas always puts his lube in the top drawer. _ “Bingo.” Dean grins as his hand hits a tube of Astroglide, and he pulls it out and gives it to Cas. Then Cas’s mouth is on Dean’s neck again, biting and sucking and licking like he’s one of those fucking Twilight vampires, and Dean’s hands are pinned again. “Tie,” Dean moans.

Cas pulls away, a glint in his eyes as he grins. He undoes his tie and loosely knots Dean’s hands to the headboard before flipping open the tube and lubing up his fingers. Cas bites and sucks a path from Dean’s neck to his nipple, and the second Cas starts sucking on one, Dean moans so loudly he fears the neighbors will hear him. “Fuck. Fuck, Cas, you’re so hot.”

Dean feels Cas’s lips turn into a grin before there’s teeth scraping against his nipple and a lubed-up finger rubbing at his entrance. Cas pushes it in, precise and methodical, at the same time that he bites down lightly on Dean’s nipple. Dean nearly screams. “Fuck, fuck, Cas, fuck me already!”

“As you wish,” Cas murmurs, and then suddenly there’s two fingers inside and it’s burning but Cas is hitting Dean’s prostate with every thrust of his fingers. And then Cas starts scissoring and bursts of color start appearing behind Dean’s eyelids.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean moans. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Cas’s mouth is on Dean’s once more, and Cas says, “Don’t blaspheme” with a particularly rough thrust and Dean knows it’s a joke but the gravelly voice shoots straight to his dick and he almost creams himself then and there. And then there’s a third finger slowly making its way into his ass. Dean arches his back off the bed and moans like a porn star.

“More,” Dean gasps. “I want your dick.”

Cas’s eyes are practically black by now. Dean watches Cas’s sweat-beaded muscles move as he grabs a condom, tears the package open with his  _ fucking teeth _ , and rolls it on.

Cas’s fingers exit Dean’s ass, leaving Dean cold and empty. “Hurry up,” Dean hisses.

Cas looks up and Dean feels like that was the wrong thing to say (but it was so, so right). The condom snaps onto Cas’s cock and Cas lubes it up and thrusts into Dean so hard that he’s lifted off the bed. “Yes, yes, fuck yes,” Dean moans. “Fuck me harder, Cas.”

Cas complies, and the way he says Dean’s name is so filthy it should be illegal. “I want you… to bend me over,” Dean gasps out.

Cas’s smirk looks almost devilish as he pulls out, lifts and repositions Dean like he’s carrying a book, and then thrusts back into Dean. Dean’s ass is in the air and he feels vaguely like a turkey but pretty much all his brain is telling him is  _ fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck Cas is fucking you you’re gonna come soon Jesus fucking Christ. _

“Fuck, Dean,” Cas moans as he bottoms out and starts thrusting, the sound of slapping skin on skin filling the room. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!” The rhythm of Cas’s thrusts become more erratic, and then Dean feels Cas’s cock go limp inside him. Cas pulls out and turns Dean over again before immediately taking Dean’s cock into his mouth.

The wet heat of Cas’s mouth encases Dean’s dick as Dean moans and arches his back even farther. Cas bobs his head, taking all of Dean into his mouth at once- and Dean is reminded of the Thanksgiving where he gave thanks for Cas’s missing gag reflex- and Dean only thrusts a few times before he’s shouting gibberish and letting loose into Cas’s mouth.

Cas swallows nearly every drop, staring at Dean the whole time with come dripping out of the sides of his mouth and down his neck, looking so  _ debauched _ that Dean feels like he's ready to go a second round.

…

Dean wakes up from a surprisingly deep and nightmare-less sleep to a pounding headache. “Oh, what the  _ fuck _ ?” Dean mutters. He opens his eyes. Thank god it’s not light yet.

Then he realizes that there’s an arm around his hip and the bed he’s in is not his own. The events of the previous night come rushing back to him-  _ drinking. Professor Asshole. And then getting the best dicking down of my life, possibly. _

_ Fucking hell, it’s Tuesday! _ Dean looks at Cas’s bedside clock. The display reads 5:38 AM, so Dean should have plenty of time to get to Sandover. He slowly frees himself from Cas’s arm and looks back at the other man.

Cas looks peaceful. The stress lines that came from working for three doctorates at once are nearly gone when he’s sleeping, and Dean doesn’t want to disturb him.

The rush of affection is so overwhelming that Dean’s forgotten about Italy and the non-explanation Cas gave him the night before.  _ That’s Cas. Giving some cryptic-ass excuse and ditching me. _ Dean feels his walls go back up. He picks up his clothes. His button-down didn't survive the night, so Dean leaves it on the floor, pulls on his jacket over his bare chest, and heads out. He's practically unmarked by come, so at least that's something to be grateful for.

He pauses to look into the kitchen. It doesn’t strike him as to what he’s looking for until he sees the coffeemaker. Cas kept the damn coffeemaker.

Dean’s not exactly sure what that makes him feel, and he doesn’t want to expose himself enough to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have a dick and i've never fucked anyone with a dick so please forgive the inaccuracies! hope y'all liked it!


	5. Walk of Shame

Castiel wakes up, and his head is pounding. He grimaces. His alarm is blaring, and even behind closed eyes, the light is burning into his retinas.

Hold on. It’s Tuesday.

There isn’t supposed to be this much light in Castiel’s room when he wakes on a Tuesday.

Castiel’s eyes fly open and he rolls over to face the clock, ignoring his slight nausea.  _ Thank God for alcohol tolerance _ .

Castiel forgets all about thanking God when he comprehends the numbers on the display. It’s 7:15, and Castiel is supposed to be at the school in  _ fifteen minutes. _

He hits the off button on his alarm and jumps out of bed, wincing as he realizes that there’s dried come and drool all over his mouth and neck. His bedroom  _ reeks _ of sex.  _ No shower-skipping, then. _

Castiel doesn’t even bother to let the shower warm up to his preferred scalding temperature before he’s scrubbing himself down as fast as possible. He brushes his teeth without putting any clothes on, shivering in the cold September air since the landlord doesn’t turn on the heat until October. His coat is unmarked by come, but he almost slips on discarded buttons as he rushes around his apartment. Both his and Dean’s button-downs lay sadly on the floor, with threads sticking out.

_ When did Dean leave? _ Castiel wonders.

Unbidden, an image appears in Castiel’s mind- him and Dean eating breakfast together, Castiel explaining everything, Dean forgiving him.

Castiel stands there with his briefcase in his hands, contemplating what could’ve been if he had just  _ woken up earlier. _

Then his phone buzzes, and he’s startled into action again.

…

He ends up entering his classroom five minutes before the 8:10 tardy bell rings and pulls up the slideshow for the day’s lesson as the last stragglers take their seats.

…

Emma doesn’t give a shit about any of her teachers’ love lives. However, the hickies on Novak’s neck are  _ really _ hard to ignore. “Those are really impressive,” Josephine whispers in the row in front of here. Claire snickers next to her.

“They look painful,” Krissy comments. “Whoever he was getting it on with- they must’ve been really into it.”

Aidan snorts. “‘Getting it on?’ You sound like a grandma.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Krissy hisses back. “You know I’m right. Novak’s usually got bat ears, and he hasn’t even noticed us talking yet.”

Emma’s not surprised. Novak’s definitely one of the hottest teachers.

As if on cue, Novak turns around from his presentation. “Care to share, Ms. Chambers? This is usually the only time I ask for silence in the class.”

“Sorry, Professor.” Krissy’s neck and ears flush. Novak turns back to the board and continues drawing a flow chart.

“I wonder who gave him the hickey,” Josie whispers. Krissy and Aidan giggle.

Then Novak turns around from the board again, and Krissy, Aidan, and Josephine all blush from head to toe. “It’s not really any of your business, Ms. Barnes. What  _ is _ your business is who was giving the common folk ideas to rebel. Let’s get back to that, shall we?”

Emma wants to die of laughter. She bites her lip and tries to pay attention. Claire isn’t doing so well with hiding it.

…

Castiel turns back to the board and adds some embellishments to the flow chart to hide his flushed face. He supposes that his mirror was so fogged up from his shower that he couldn’t see his hickeys while he brushed his teeth. The memory of Dean’s teeth and lips on his neck send a pleasant shiver down his spine.  _ Damn it all to hell. I still haven’t explained what happened to Dean. _ And if he knew Dean at all, Dean would hate him even more now, after Castiel had given him a cryptic explanation that offered no real consolation.  _ Who would  _ actually _ believe that I was  _ kidnapped _? _ Even to Castiel, it sounds fake.

Castiel barely makes it to Sabertooth Time- the study period- without doing anything that would signify how big of a  _ wreck _ he feels like. He leaves his room the second that the first-period bell rings and pops his collar as he walks to Pam’s room.

“What’s up, Constantine?” Pam asks, looking up from the papers she’s filling out as Castiel walks in. He narrows his eyes.

“I don’t understand that reference.”

Pam sighs. “Of course you wouldn’t. Didn’t Dean culture you when y’all were together?” Castiel stiffens a little at that, and Pam’s expression softens. “Sorry, Cassie. What did you need?”

Castiel looks around to make sure no students are watching and then pulls down his collar to reveal his hickeys. “We’re around the same skin tone,” Castiel says desperately.

If Pam’s eyebrows could go any higher, they’d be in her hairline. A few seconds go by, and then her face breaks out into a grin. “That’s my boy!”

“Keep it  _ down _ ,” Castiel begs. “Do you have any concealer?”

Pam roots around in her desk and comes up with a bottle and a sponge. “I want you to tell me  _ everything _ after school. And knowing Meg, she’ll want to know too.” The look on Pam’s face as she talks about Meg makes Castiel’s heart ache a little bit. He grabs the bottle and sponge, and Pam picks up her pen again. “Just keep them,” Pam says. “I have more at home. And if you get your act together, you might need it later.” She throws him a wink.

“Thank you, Pam,” Castiel says.

“No problem. Hey, what’s the date?” Pam asks, frowning down at the papers on her desk.

“Uh, September 19. Are you sure you don’t need these back?”

“Yep. I’m sure. Go get covered up before third period starts.”

Castiel salutes awkwardly and heads to a teacher’s lounge, praying that it’s empty- or at least devoid of snitches. Thankfully, the first one he comes across is deserted. He applies the concealer as quickly as he can and then hurries back to his classroom.

He’ll talk to Dean if Dean wishes to instigate the conversation. He has no wish to intrude on Dean’s boundaries- especially after last night and his shitty explanation.

…

Dean has been thinking about Cas fucking him  _ all fucking day _ and it’s been driving him a little crazy, because he  _ can’t fucking focus on anything else _ . Thankfully, his collar stays up the entire day, hiding the purple bruises on his neck from view.

He’s been avoiding Cas all day- which is harder than Dean thought it would be, seeing as they’re in two totally separate departments. Dean’s had to enter random classrooms twice today. Both times they were Benny Lafitte’s class and he and Dean were fast friends, but Dean could just imagine how awkward it would be if he ducked into a room and it had been, like, Talbot’s or Metatron’s classroom. Dean shudders even  _ thinking _ about it.

He’s starting to get a little concerned about the fact that he’s spent more time fantasizing about Cas than being pissed at him.

…

Dean introduces the Sandover Engineering Project in his classes on the 21st and 22nd, even though half of the class is still out with the flu. He’s met with actual interest, which is surprising to Dean, but then again, it’s a school for nerds. Only Emma Cobalt stays after school on the 22nd to work on her project, though. “Jesus, where is everybody?” Dean grumbles to himself as Emma draws up the plans for her prototype. “I thought y’all were actually interested in this.”

Emma looks up. “The kids who don’t have access to labs like this go to NYU to design their stuff.”

“How are they allowed to do that?” Dean asks.

Emma looks at him like he’s stupid. “Sandover partnered with NYU on this. It’s in the contest rules.”

Dean probably should’ve done more than skim those. But how could he? Between grading papers and fantasizing about Cas and taking care of Charlie and keeping up with Sarah’s pregnancy, he barely had time to take anything else on. “Oh. Why’re you here, then?”

Emma chews her lip. “My mom won’t let me go to NYU to work. And I already have the equipment that I need here.”

“Alrighty then. I’m gonna grade my papers.”

Emma smiles- the first time that Dean’s seen her smile. It’s weird, but she reminds him of Sammy or Charlie- especially when she says, “You do that.”


	6. Check Your Fucking Emails

“Charlie, what the  _ fuck _ do you mean I have to work with Cas?” Dean asks.

“Didn’t you know this? They sent out the email today, according to Cas,” Charlie says, slightly out of breath from her Sunday jog. She consoles herself with the fact that Dean looks like he’s run a marathon, despite the fact that he can pick her up with one arm.

“Jesus Christ. Okay, let’s stop here,” Dean pants, collapsing on a bench on the side of the Central Park trail. “Does it look like I’ve had time to check my emails and get news that I have to work with  _ Castiel Novak? _ ”

Charlie looks at her friend. His chest is heaving, and he’s drenched in sweat. “We’ve run a mile. And we met here at  _ ten _ . So… yeah.”

Charlie is sick and tired of Cas’s drunken rambles about Dean. It’s getting a little worrying, to be honest, how often Cas calls her when he’s drunk. And she knows Cas’s alcohol tolerance, so she  _ also _ knows about how much Castiel is spending on booze.

She’s equally sick and tired of Dean’s rants about Cas that  _ always _ turn into something pretty close to love confessions. But she told Cas she wouldn’t tell Dean anything, and she’s nothing if not a woman of her word. Also, she doesn’t want one of her best friends getting arrested.

Being a trustworthy person is annoying.

Dean recovers enough breath to glare at her and say in a mostly normal voice, “I’m a normal person who doesn’t like to wake up before nine on the weekends.”

“Check your emails in the cab,” Charlie suggests.

Dean makes a frustrated noise. “Whatever! Still doesn’t change the fact that I have to work with Professor Asshole.”

“Didn’t you tell me that the original name was ‘ _ professional _ asshole?’” Charlie asks, trying to change course so she doesn’t accidentally say something she’s not supposed to.

“You know what,  _ either one works _ , because he’s  _ both. _ ” Dean glowers at her as she sits down on the bench. “It’s not a sexy professor thing, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Dean blurts before clamping his mouth shut.

Charlie sighs, frustrated. “You know what, Dean? You and him both obviously have feelings for each other. Why don’t you  _ talk _ ? He could probably explain some things.”

“I don’t have feelings for him,” Dean says, trying to act stubborn. It’s a little adorable. “He  _ left _ me.”

“Don’t be a baby.” Charlie stands up again. If she has to go through the pain of playing matchmaker without tipping either of them off to what she’s doing, she wants to be able to inflict some pain in return. “Let’s go. I said I wanted to do a three-mile run.”

“I’m not a baby. And I don’t have feelings for him!” Dean protests as he stands up.

“Sure,” Charlie says, already jogging. “Sure.”

…

After Dean’s showered, he Skypes Sam and Sarah. He’s only been able to text them over the past week, since both of them have either been studying or sleeping, and Dean finds himself grinning as his brother and future sister-in-law’s faces appear on the screen. “What’s-” He trails off as he notices the somber expressions on their faces. “What happened?”

Sarah holds her hand up to her face.

Dean’s mom’s engagement ring is on it, and it looks even more beautiful than he thought it would. Sam and Sarah’s grim faces have melted away and they’re laughing like hyenas, and Dean can’t help but smile in return. He has to swallow a few times before he can start talking. “Congrats, you guys! When did it happen?”

“Last night,” Sarah says. “I wanted to call you then, but Sam wanted to wait and surprise you.”

Dean starts laughing. “Oh, Sam, you little asshole. Well, at least you finally manned up. You got a date yet?”

Sam beams at him. “December 31. We want the first dance to be at midnight.”

Dean fake-clutches at his heart. “That’s so fucking sweet.”

“Shut up, you asshole,” Sarah says, swatting the camera and laughing.

Dean raises his eyebrows at her.  _ Did you tell him? _

“I told him after he proposed,” Sarah confirms.

“Wait a second.  _ He _ knew before  _ me _ ?” Sam exclaims, faking indignation.

Dean smiles as his brother and Sarah start playfully shoving each other. “Congrats, guys, really.”

Their conversation starts to revolve around the wedding. Both Sam and Sarah want Dean to plan it, since it’ll be a small ceremony. “I’m not good at this stuff,” Dean warns.

“Well, you’re my best man, and you’re planning the bachelor party. Why not plan the whole wedding?” Sam asks.

Dean pauses. “I’m your best man?”

Sam frowns. “Whoops. I thought I had asked you before. But  _ of course _ you’re my best man, dude. You’re my  _ brother _ .”

Dean sniffles. “Fine. I’ll plan your stupid wedding.”

“Yes!” Sam and Sarah crow together.

“You have to get your own damn clothes, though,” Dean tells them. “And I want the guest list by Halloween.”

“Perfect,” Sarah tells him.

“Jesus Christ. My heart’s going to give out,” Dean grumbles. “First I have to run a contest, then I have to work with Cas, and now I’ve gotta plan your damn wedding? This is too much stress.” He’s joking and he knows they know it, but Sam’s jaw has dropped and Sarah looks confused.

“Who’s Cas?” Sarah asks.

At the same time, Sam says, “You’re working with  _ Cas _ ?”

Dean’s suddenly itching for a beer.

…

“Remember that ex-fiance I told you about?” Dean asks Sarah. “That’s Cas.”

“How did you end up  _ working _ with him?” Sam asks.

“I guess I forgot to tell you. He works at Sandover.” Dean has the urge to scratch his neck, or at least cover it up. He’s in crappy lighting, but if either of them paid attention to his neck-

“Oh my GOD,” Sarah exclaims. “Did he give you those hickeys?!”

Dean grimaces. “Maybe.”  _ Cat’s out of the bag now. _

Sam looks like he wants to drink bleach. “Ew.  _ Ew. _ ”

“It’s not that gross, Sammy.”

“You’re not supposed to leave hickeys where other people can  _ see _ them, Dean,” Sarah admonishes. “Like, whenever I-”

“Nope! Nope, nope, nope! Not having this conversation with you!” Dean exclaims. “I know where to leave them. I was just too drunk and too horny to remember.”

Sam gags. “I don’t want to hear this! What I  _ do _ want to hear is his explanation for Italy.”

“He said he got kidnapped. But he was very drunk.”

Sam and Sarah look at him like he’s a crazy person. “And you didn’t… I dunno,  _ follow up _ ?” Sarah asks. “When you were both sober? And able to have a proper conversation?”

“If Cas wanted to talk to me, he would.” Dean doesn’t bring up how much it  _ stings _ to be ignored- especially by Cas, who used to look at Dean like he was the best thing in the world. Now they don’t look at each other at all. He thought that the letter had crushed him, but being ignored in person is much, much worse.

“ _ You _ talk to  _ him _ ,” Sam tells him.

“You deserve an explanation,” Sarah says with a fierce expression.

Dean forces a smile. He’s not feeling it, and he  _ really _ wants a beer. “Thanks, guys. I gotta go prep for this stupid project.”

Sam and Sarah both open their mouths, but Dean hits the End Call button before they can say anything.

…

Dean ends up spending a  _ lot _ of time looking at wedding shit after school. He and Emma have grown comfortable around each other, seeing as Emma’s in the classroom every day after school for at least four hours, and usually when Emma needs a break from her work, she’ll help Dean pick out the wedding supplies. Whatever was up with her on the first day of school doesn’t rear its ugly head, and Dean finds himself feeling like she’s the kid he never had. By October, she’s stealing his food and he’s bringing an extra sandwich for her. She always insults his cooking, but she takes it. Which makes Dean nothing short of proud.

“Why do all your sandwiches have red meat in them?” she asks one day as she peers through her microscope.

“That’s like asking why someone would listen to rock all the time. Because it’s  _ good _ ,” Dean tells Emma.

“I’d think your heart would disagree,” Emma retaliates. “You’re gonna die at age 50 of a heart attack, dude.”

Dean just shoves the rest of his pulled-pork sandwich into his mouth and lets out a fake roar, imitating a monster. Emma startles and looks up to see Dean grinning, the rest of his sandwich a disgusting mess between his teeth. “That’s nasty.” She grimaces. “How’re you gonna plan Sam’s wedding when you drop dead because your heart can’t handle all the plaque?”

Dean makes a face at her and packs chicken sandwiches the next day. When Emma tries it, she grins. “See? This tastes as good as your red meat monstrosities without filling your heart up with plaque.” She takes another bite out of it. “Is’ good,” she tells him through the chicken.

“Whatever, Emster,” Dean tells her. “What is it that you kids say? I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”

…

The two of them have an unspoken rule not to talk about either of their families. Sam and Sarah are okay, but after Dean had to leave the room after Emma asked about his mom and dad in such a lighthearted tone that it made Dean sick and Emma completely closed up after Dean asked who picked her up, they stopped talking about parents. So Dean finds it- well, not very alarming, to say the least- when Emma comes to  _ him _ with her problems. And he’s met the school counselors. They’re the people who Crowley hasn’t gotten around to firing.

“Jesus Christ. Metatron is a  _ creep _ ,” Emma says, storming into Dean’s classroom. “He tried to grab my ass after class.”

Dean hears the undertone of fear in Emma’s voice. She sounds like a little kid. “You need me to close the door, Emster?” he asks, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

She nods, and Dean complies. Immediately, she bursts into tears. “He  _ tried to touch my ass _ ,” she sobs, putting her head down on the table. “And I slapped him, but he  _ tried to touch my ass _ .”

Dean vaguely knows what Emma’s feeling. Alastair, Inc…. well, he doesn’t want to think about Alastair, Inc. But he’s not a woman, so he doesn’t know the fear that Emma’s facing. His fear is practically gone, reduced to the residual dust that he’ll carry with him in the crevices of his soul forever. Alastair is dead. Her fear is constant and fresh. And something about Emma screams “guarded.” “Can I put my hand on your shoulder?” Dean asks her.

Emma nods and sniffles a few times. Dean feels a little bit awkward, but he puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezes it. “I’ll be good in a few minutes,” she says.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Dean offers, stumbling over his words. “Take however long you need. And that douchebag will be  _ ruined _ .”

They stay like that for a little while before Emma raises her head. “I’m good. I’m over it,” she says, trying and failing to act tough.

Dean nods. “Okay. If you want to talk, I’m here, if you don’t, I’m here.” He goes over to the door and opens it. The panicked look on Emma’s face whenever she’s in an enclosed space made Dean realize that an open door was always the best idea. Especially now.

Emma nods and gets out her project and equipment. The usual four hours go by, and Emma and Dean leave at the same time, making sure to go around the English hallway. “Get home safe,” Dean says. Emma salutes, her eyes still red, and disappears into the subway entrance.

Dean turns around and peers into Metadouche’s room. The greasy old man is still inside. Dean opens the door and heads inside.

“Mr. Winchester, what can I do for you?” Metatron asks. There’s a bruise blooming on his face.  _ That’s my girl, _ Dean thinks proudly.

“I’d appreciate it if you walked to Central Park with me,” Dean tells him. “I think we should talk about Emma Cobalt.”

…

Metatron is  _ very _ compliant once Dean digs his nails into his arm. Dean steers them to the park, and the second they’re in a secluded area, Dean lands a blow to Metatron’s face.

The hit makes something crack in the douchebag’s head, and when Dean takes a look at his gloves, he realizes that his right one is bloody. Adrenaline pumps through Dean’s body, reminding him of when he was a teenager- except now he’s a  _ lot _ stronger and he knows exactly how to control the rush.

_ Jab. Cross. Uppercut. Yes, nice. Hear the crack and  _ enjoy it _ , because this shitbag deserves it. _ Dean throws punch after punch in a thirty-second flurry of fists.

Then Metatron manages to get in a solid punch and back away. He pulls out a gun.  _ He had a  _ gun _. On school property. He could’ve _ \- “Harder once I have this, isn’t it,” Metatron taunts.

Dean sees red and all he can hear are Emma’s sobs. “You think a  _ gun _ is gonna protect you, you piece of  _ shit _ ?”

Dean leaps at Metatron, who fires twice. He registers brief pain before landing on Metatron and punching the fuckface’s nose so hard it breaks. Metatron drops his gun as he raises his hands to his nose and screams. Dean keeps punching. His tormenter is dead, and Emma deserves for hers to be dead too.

“Dean?” he hears someone say. “Hey! Quit it!”

Dean looks up, panting. He whips around. Charlie and Dorothy are standing on the path, their expressions horrified.

Dean glances at Metatron. His face is a bloody mess, and three of his teeth are missing. The gun is a few feet away. “He  _ sexually assaulted _ a student.”

“Dean, you’re  _ bleeding, _ ” Dorothy informs him.

“It’s not my blood-  _ ow _ ,” Dean says as the adrenaline fades and he realizes that he’s been shot.

“Holy  _ shit _ , you got  _ shot _ ?” Charlie gasps as she sees the gun.

Dean takes off his glove and pokes the wound, inhaling sharply as the pain multiplies. “It just grazed me.” The wound isn’t deep at all, by some miracle- just some missing skin.

Dorothy sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Dean, do you know how fucking  _ lucky _ you are?” Dean knows, but he’s not exactly sure what Dorothy is referring to in this context. She walks over to Metatron, who, by some miracle, is still conscious. “Hey. Douchebag.”

Metatron groans.  _ The black eyes make him look like a panda. Except not as cute. _ Dean can’t find it in him to regret what he did, and he’s reminded of Ruby Cortese and Brady Niveus once he had finished with them.

“I’m NYC’s top public defender right now, and I will undoubtedly be on Mr. Winchester’s side if you choose to take this to court, and I will undoubtedly win. I recommend that you quit your job and move out of state,” Dorothy tells Metatron with a smile. She turns back around to Charlie and Dean. “We need to GO,” she mouths.

Dean stuffs his gloves into his pocket and the three of them leave the park as fast as they can without looking suspicious. “I didn’t know you were New York’s top public defender,” Dean tells Dorothy, his voice still a little shaky.

“What are you talking about? I tell you that literally all the time,” Charlie says.

“You’ve also told me that you automatically tune me out whenever I mention Cas. And I  _ do not _ have feelings for him, by the way, so I don’t know why you do that,” Dean says. His heart is fluttering- whether it’s from beating the shit out of a guy, almost getting caught beating the shit out of a guy, from thinking about Cas, or a mix of the three, Dean’s not sure. Charlie opens her mouth to argue, but Dean watches as Dorothy takes Charlie’s hand and she shuts it to grin. “Can you do that more often so that I don’t have to hear her saying I have a crush on Cas?” Dean asks. “The dude literally  _ left me _ . With a  _ letter _ . I’d be stupid to like him.”

Charlie laughs, a little more high-pitched than usual, and shoves Dean with her shoulder as they hustle into the subway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> US sexual assault hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> if you need help, my inbox is always open.


	7. Spill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these two FINALLY talk their shit out!

_ Of course my classes are paired with Dean’s _ , Castiel thinks as he reads the email about the history-engineering collaboration project. He sighs and keeps scrolling, Charlie’s feet propped up on his legs as she grades assignments next to him.

The project is usually an entertaining endeavor- the students are challenged with building a historically accurate, working model of a historic machine- but Castiel doesn’t want to be paired with  _ Dean _ . Knowing him, he’ll say something to make the situation even worse and end up with three months of discomfort.

_ But maybe Dean will talk to me _ , Castiel thinks hopefully. He allows himself one blissful minute to imagine what could be, letting all his dreams balloon in his chest, before metaphorically popping it with cold, hard reality. Dean has never taken abandonment well, and Cas doesn’t want to be forgiven just because Dean thinks it’s his duty to forgive everyone. Castiel is only slightly sure that he  _ deserves _ to be forgiven for what he did. He should  _ never _ have taken his mother’s word for it that Dean was dead.  _ Naomi Novak is a lying bitch _ , Castiel repeats to himself.

Dean had never liked her in the first place. Neither had Castiel, to be honest. His mother was homophobic, openly disliked Castiel’s bisexual father after he came out to her, and made life a living hell for everyone in the household.  _ I wish they had divorced earlier, _ Castiel thinks ruefully. Chuck and Naomi had wanted to wait until Castiel and his twin, Jimmy, were in college.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Charlie asks.

Castiel decides to deflect slightly. “The fact that my mother named me and my twin mirror versions of each other.”

Castiel forgets that Charlie doesn’t know he  _ has _ a twin.

“You have a  _ twin? _ ” Charlie exclaims. “When were you going to tell me this? And what the hell do you mean by ‘mirror versions?’”

“I apologize, I assumed you knew. I forgot I never talked to you or any of the rest of the staff about my family, other than my aunt and mother. My father and mother divorced when I was in college, and my father and three of my siblings went to the West Coast. My twin Jimmy’s full name is James Castiel Shirley Novak, and I’m Castiel James Shirley Novak. That’s what I meant by the mirror names.”

“Why didn’t you go to the West Coast once you came back from Italy then? And what do you mean  _ three _ of your siblings? You have  _ more? _ ”

“I have six siblings. Michael and Luke are the oldest- they’re also twins, but they’re both pieces of shit who run a business in Miami with my third-oldest sibling Raphael. Something to do with life insurance? Anyway, they were scalping people, but since they know all of the inspectors, they haven’t been caught. Their company is crashing, but they deal drugs on the side to maintain a profit. The second-oldest is Gabriel, then the fourth-oldest is Anna, and then Jimmy and I are the youngest. They’re the ones who went with my father to California. My mother told me that my disappearance ‘screwed with their heads,’ and I figure they don’t want to see me since I disappeared on them.” Castiel sighs. It’s been a long time since he’s talked about his family, and talking about his father, Gabe, Anna, and Jimmy makes his heart hurt.  _ They’re better off without me _ .

Castiel clears his throat and turns to Charlie. Her jaw is hanging open. “Dude. How did I not know any of this?”

“Apologies.” Castiel himself can’t tell if he intended that to be sarcastic or not. He’s spent too much time with the likes of Meg and Pam.

“You know, your family will probably be  _ happy _ to see you,” Charlie says.

“Well, now it’s been four years since I came back. They’ll be angry that I didn’t tell them sooner.”

“You should at least  _ try _ .”

Castiel loves Charlie, but for a computer science major, she’s very idealistic. His family has probably recovered by now, and they don’t need Castiel coming back into their lives and causing a disturbance. He’s already interfered with Dean’s life- why put his family through the same thing? “I’m sure they’re ‘over it’ by now.”

Charlie stares Castiel in the eye. “They’re  _ never _ over it.”

“My family is full of strange people.”

Charlie sighs. “Fine. But we’re having another conversation about this later.”

…

The first day of the project comes around. Castiel’s class has been given instructions to go straight to Dean’s classroom before the bell rings, but Castiel is willing to bet that at least half of them will forget, so he writes a note in dry-erase marker on his window.

With thirty-five minutes until the 8:10 bell, Castiel heads to Dean’s classroom, walking as slowly as he can to minimize the time spent with Dean.  _ “Don’t make it weird _ ,” Dean had once told him. So that has become Castiel’s aim. The less time in Dean’s classroom, the less opportunity he has to “make it weird.”

His pace only shaves off three minutes, and he finds himself arriving at Dean’s door with over half an hour until class begins. He knocks on the door, peering through the window to see Dean grading papers at his desk. Without breaking his death stare at the papers, Dean gestures for Castiel to come in.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says as he walks in.

Dean looks up. “Oh, hey Cas.” There’s a silence between them before Dean says, “I had them bring in a spare desk so you could work too.” Dean gestures to the desk placed close to his own.

Castiel feels his stomach twist as a surge of affection flows through him. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean grins halfheartedly before another pause overtakes them. “So… what’d you do over the weekend?”

“Nothing much, just some grading. Uh, what about you?” Castiel is officially making it weird.

“Same thing, really. Charlie made me go on a run with her.” Dean’s face twists into an expression of disgust. “She’s been making me go running every Sunday since… what, the 24th of September? Ever since the email on the project got sent out. So, like,  _ three runs. _ ”

Castiel laughs. “I would have liked to see  _ that _ .”

Dean blushes a little, and Castiel scolds himself.  _ You’re making it weird. _

After yet another moment of silence, where Dean doesn’t break their eye contact to look back down at his papers, Castiel says, “Did you hear Metatron quit over the weekend?”

Dean stiffens up a little, and Castiel wonders what he said. “Yeah. Yep.”

Castiel nods and slowly sits down at his desk. “It’s pretty… strange.”

Fifteen minutes go by, the silence growing more awkward every second, before Dean blurts out, “Why did you spend so long in Italy?”

Dean looks like he wants to clap his hand over his mouth. His cheeks are the color of fire engines.  _ It’s a good color on him, _ Castiel notes idly.

Then Castiel realizes that  _ Dean has asked about Italy. _ All his reasons are gone.

Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk about Italy.

But he owes it to Dean to give him an explanation. “It’ll probably take a while to explain.”

The second that the words are out of Castiel’s mouth, he wants to take them back. Dean leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, pushing his shoulders forwards. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”

Castiel feels himself tense slightly, even though he knows he deserves any malevolent feelings that Dean chooses to direct at him. “I assure you, Dean, I have an explanation. It’s a long story, and you deserve to hear it the whole way through. And students are going to be coming in soon. There’s only fifteen minutes till the bell.”

Dean’s face clears. “Oh.”

There’s another pause, this one slightly less awkward than the others, before Cas says, “What if we met up after school and I explained then?”

“Or we could meet during fifth period. We both have that as a free period.” Dean blushes again. “I’m not a stalker or anything. I just looked you up.”

It gives Castiel hope for  _ some _ sort of forgiveness from Dean. Even though it’s not something that should be given to him. “I thought your free period was third?” Castiel asks.

He realizes how that could come across as to Dean and feels warmth surge to his cheeks. “I’m not a stalker either. I just… well, I looked you up as well.”

Dean grins. “I have two free periods.” From the way Dean’s lips angle upward, Castiel is  _ sure _ that Dean is about to make some sort of innuendo, but two students make their way into the workshop and Dean shuts his mouth.

…

Dean feels like there’s an electric current running through him up until fifth period. He’s going to get an explanation. An actual explanation for the letter that sent him spiraling into depression and slight alcoholism.

Dean checks the room for stragglers before closing the door, even though Emma had been absent today.

“Um,” Cas starts, and  _ damn _ is that voice hot. “I wasn’t kidnapped, really. More like… held hostage. And then I thought you were dead.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. That just raises more questions than it answers. “Maybe let’s start with the day you left.”

Cas takes a deep breath. “It really  _ was _ supposed to be for a week,” he tells Dean. “Then my aunt… the whole time I stayed with her, she pushed this business idea on me. I said no, that I had a life back here and I was getting married… I told her that I was marrying a man and she got pissed.

“I woke up on the morning that I was supposed to leave and I was chained to my bed. My aunt said that it was a ‘kill two birds with one stone’ type thing. I wouldn’t marry a man and she would have someone to run her goddamned  _ drug cartel _ .” Cas chuckles, but Dean hears no humor in it. His blood is already boiling. He’d like to take a flight to Italy and kill each and every one of the bastards.

“I couldn’t leave, because she’d hired people to put bars on all the windows, and she had someone guard the front door, and we were out on a farm where we grew all the plants we needed. I thought you were going to look for me for the first three months-”

Dean feels bile rise in his throat.

Cas had been in trouble. Waiting for Dean to find him. And Dean had let him down.

After  _ every time _ Cas had been there for him, Dean couldn’t return the favor.

Cas keeps talking, and Dean listens in horror. “When I told my aunt that, she said that she had sent you a letter saying that I was staying in Italy and needed to get away from you.” Dean flinches a little, and as if Cas noticed, he says, “You have to understand, Dean.” Cas’s eyes are boring into Dean’s. “That’s not something that will happen.”

_ I doubt it. _

It’s like Cas can read minds. “It’s never going to happen. Regardless of what my aunt said. That made me realize that there was no point in fighting it unless I could fight strategically.

“So I stayed there for two years, just balancing the books and making the arrangements for pickups. After my aunt told me that, I stopped fighting and she allowed me to walk around the house throughout the day,” Cas says. He’s paled a little, but he’s saying it like it’s no big deal, like he’s talking about some lighthearted teasing instead of being  _ kept in captivity _ . Dean feels like he’s going to be sick. “And I managed to find out how to detach one of my bedposts, so I managed to escape by knocking the guard at the front door unconscious. Everyone else stayed asleep, which was lucky, because I hiked into the city and told the police, and they got everybody important.”

“Cas,” Dean blurts. “You don’t have to tell me- Jesus Christ, if this is- Christ, man, I’m so sorry.”

Cas gives him a sad smile. “I  _ need _ to tell you, Dean.

“I was interrogated, and once they got all my information, they let me go back to the States. I was updated on their status, and they all got the death penalty.”

“Good,” Dean mutters under his breath, so low Cas can’t hear him.

“I went to my mother’s house, since I knew she had the funds to support me, but she told me you were dead and kicked me out because I’m pansexual. I knew the location of your fake grave, so I went there and found a job in the town nearby, Pontiac. Then I got hired here.” Cas finishes his story, and something about the clinical way Cas says it makes Dean realize that the calm facade is just that- a facade.

“Christ, Cas,” Dean says. He stands up, and before he knows what he’s doing, his arms are around Cas, his hands fisted in the trenchcoat. Cas is shaking slightly.

“I’m so sorry for leaving you like that,” Cas tells him.

Dean is about to either cry, hurl, or have his heart rip in two. “Jesus. Don’t  _ ever _ apologize for shit like that. It wasn’t your fault.” The tide of guilt in him is rising higher by the second. “I’m sorry for being such a douche.” Compared to Cas’s words, his feel pathetic.

Cas steps back from the hug. “Dean. You had every right to.”

“No I didn’t. I didn’t have all the information.”

“Neither did I.”

“So you’re saying we’re both a couple of dumbasses?” Dean says with a grin, desperately hoping for Cas to understand what he’s really saying.

Cas’s expression melts into a small smile, melting Dean’s heart as well, and Dean suddenly wonders why he had any doubts about it at all. “I prefer the word trusting. Less dumb, less ass.”

It doesn’t escape Dean’s notice that Cas left the  _ couple _ part alone. And if that doesn’t give Dean hope, he doesn’t know what will.


	8. Tombstone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND SO THE SHITSTORM BEGINS.

The last bell rings and the students pour out of Dean’s classroom. Emma didn’t show up in Dean’s class, either.  _ I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably just sick, _ Dean thinks, even though the gnawing anxiety in his gut feels otherwise.  _ Just focus on getting the balls to ask Cas out. _

Cas is packing up his papers when Dean’s mouth acts of its own accord and he blurts, “Drinks?”

Cas tilts his head and narrows his eyes, and Dean’s embarrassment fades somewhat, replaced with a flood of affection.

“It’s three,” Cas replies, his words feeling like a smack in the face to Dean, making another flush of heat rush through him.

“Oh. All right, then. See you tomorrow.” Dean picks up his bag and heads for the door, bumping into the corner of his desk as he does so. His skin is burning, and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“Dean, wait. We could, um, get food instead,” Cas suggests. Dean whirls around with a grin on his face and Cas responds in kind.

“You still haven’t seen  _ Tombstone _ , right?” Dean asks. Cas’s grin is blinding, and Dean idly wishes that he could stare at it forever.

“No,” Cas replies. “Are you suggesting that we watch it?”

“Hell yeah I am. If that’s okay?”

Cas’s smile grows wider, and the sight of it makes Dean feel like he’s floating. “Of course, Dean.”

…

Every imperfection in Dean’s apartment stands out as he and Cas enter, laden with pizza and Chinese. The boxers on the floor by the laundry basket, the dishes piled up in the sink, the papers strewn across the desk- Dean cringes as Cas enters and looks around. “Sorry about the mess.”

Then Dean remembers how much of a fucking  _ slob _ Cas is, just as Cas says, “We lived together for two years, Dean. You’ve seen my habits.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, I remember, you fucking slob.”

It’s nice to be able to think about Cas- and Cas leaving him- without feeling any negative emotions. Dean watches, somewhat amused, as Cas drops the food on Dean’s coffee table and slings his coat on the coat hanger. “Tombstone is over two hours,” Cas says. “We should get started if we want to finish at a reasonable hour.”

“Well, we wouldn’t  _ have _ to be getting started so fast if  _ someone _ hadn’t insisted that they wanted Chinese from  _ one specific restaurant _ , would we?” Dean snipes, with no real malice in his voice.

Cas rolls his eyes. “It’s not my fault that your pizza place is three boroughs away,” he says.

“You’ll see why I go there when you eat it.” Dean looks Cas up and down. “You need movie-watching clothes. Come on.”

Dean leads Cas into the bedroom and rifles through his drawers for a suitable movie-watching outfit for Cas. He comes up with a pair of sweatpants and a white T-shirt that are just a bit too loose for him. If Cas is still a beefcake under his suit, these should fit him just fine. “Here,” Dean says, tossing the clothes to Cas.

Cas plucks them out of the air and pulls down his pants. Dean’s brain seems to short-circuit. All he can see is the bulge in Cas’s underwear- which grows when Cas looks up to see Dean staring. “Like what you see?” Cas asks in his gravelly voice.

Dean  _ taught _ Cas that phrase.

How does it sound  _ so much better _ coming from Cas’s mouth?

Dean feels his own dick get a little hard as Cas slowly unbuttons his overshirt and steps closer to him. The shirt falls to the floor and Cas reaches out to undo the first button of Dean’s flannel.

“Nope. No. We are going to watch Tombstone, because the last time we wanted to watch it this  _ exact thing _ happened,” Dean says, taking a step back.

Cas looks a little disappointed, but he takes it in stride. “I expect popcorn.”

“Dude. What kind of heathen do you think I  _ am _ ?” Dean asks, trying to remember where he kept the popcorn despite the fact that they have enough food for the two of them plus Sam.  _ Damn it _ , he should’ve remembered Cas’s love for popcorn.

Cas pulls on the sweatpants and T-shirt, and somehow he looks as hot dressing himself than he does when stripping. “I don’t know, but you thought my car in college was ugly.”

Dean remembers it fondly. “The Pimpmobile? Yeah, it was ugly, dude. You still have her?”

Cas sighs. “No, some jackass stole it when I was in Italy.”

Dean suddenly feels the urge to hug Cas. “I’m sorry, man.”  _ I’m sorry I didn’t look for you _ .

Cas smiles- it’s a bit forced, but Dean will take it over Cas’s expression when talking about Italy. “It’s all right. There would be no use for it now. Let’s watch the movie.”

“All right, dude,” Dean says. He changes and then they head out to the living room. Cas flops on his couch immediately, and Dean heads over to the TV to set up the movie. Dean purposefully gets on all fours and sticks his ass out a little as he fiddles with the DVD player. He turns around and catches Cas staring at his ass. “You liking what  _ you _ see?” Dean smirks.

Cas’s legs are spread and he’s leaning back into the couch like he owns the damn place.  _ All he needs is a cigar and a cowboy hat _ , Dean thinks.  _ And the appropriate clothes. _ “Very much so,” Cas replies. Dean blushes and turns back to the DVR. He  _ swears _ that Cas’s voice is rougher than usual.

Dean starts the movie and lowers the lights. As all the obligatory “don’t copyright this or we’ll kill you” shit rolls through, Dean heads to the kitchen to start the popcorn.

He comes back into the living room and sets the popcorn between him and Cas on the couch. Cas’s hand goes into the bowl the second Dean sets it on the couch. “Pig,” Dean says with no real malice.

“Might I remind you that you eat whole pizzas in one sitting?” Cas says, his mouth stuffed full of popcorn.

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean replies. “I’m not the one who ate five hamburgers in a row.”

“Well, I’m twenty dollars richer, aren’t I?”

Dean scoffs as the opening scene begins to play. “Whatever.”

…

They’re forty-five minutes into the movie when Cas asks, “Is this a date?” with characteristic bluntness and Dean almost chokes on his pizza.

“Um. Do you want it to be?” Dean asks.

“We’re having dinner and a movie. I think it counts as a date. Just because it’s at your house doesn’t invalidate it.”

“It’s a date, then.” They watch another five minutes of the movie and Dean finishes his pizza slice before he gets the balls to ask, “Would you want to… maybe… have more dates?”

Cas turns away from the screen and Dean doesn’t even feel the urge to chastise him for it. “If you wanted to.”

Dean can’t contain his grin, and he leans across the popcorn bowl. They meet in the middle, and Dean feels like sparks are radiating through him from their lips. Cas runs his tongue along Dean’s bottom lip, and Dean scoots closer on the couch, nearly knocking over the popcorn bowl. “Not the popcorn,” Cas moans into Dean’s mouth. Cas picks up the bowl with one hand and sets it on the coffee table, his other hand still entwined in Dean’s hair. Once the bowl is out of the way, Cas pushes Dean down onto the couch and slides his free hand under Dean’s shirt.

“We’re gonna miss the movie,” Dean complains half-heartedly.

Cas pulls off of him, his pupils blown, his chest heaving, and his hair a mess. “Fuck the movie,” he says, his voice somehow an octave lower.

“Amen to that.” Dean pulls Cas back down on top of him. He can feel Cas’s huge thigh right up against his dick, and he starts grinding on it. Cas yanks down the neck of Dean’s T-shirt and starts sucking at Dean’s collarbone. The sounds that are coming out of Dean’s mouth are humiliating as hell, but there’s too much going on elsewhere for Dean to give a shit. He throws his head back as Cas pushes his sweatpants down and pulls out his dick.

The skin-on-skin contact makes Dean feel like he’s on fire as Cas slowly strokes at Dean’s dick, still sucking hickeys onto Dean’s collarbone. “Christ, Cas,  _ faster _ ,” Dean pants. Cas is taking his own sweet time, and it’s driving Dean  _ insane _ .

Cas slips his free hand into the back of Dean’s underwear and starts circling Dean’s rim with the tip of his fingers. “You’ll get there, trust me,” Cas tells him, his voice half an octave lower than usual.

Cas slowly jacks up the pace, groping Dean’s ass and gradually pushing his finger in, and Dean finds himself coming in an embarrassingly short period of time, with the embarrassing moans to go with it. He regains his breath a little as Cas cleans him up with the napkins that had come with the food. Cas’s ministrations are so fucking  _ tender _ , in sharp contrast to his previous movements.

Once all the come is gone, Cas sits up and settles into the cushions once more, turning his attention back to the screen.  _ Does he not want me? _ “You want me to return the favor?” Dean asks with a cocky grin.

“Oh,” Cas replies, seeming to be genuinely startled. “I mean, you don’t  _ have _ to, but-” The rest of his sentence is cut off by a groan as Dean kisses him. “ _ Yes _ ,” Cas moans when Dean’s hand moves to his dick.

Dean’s not gonna lie. He wants to see the movie, and he can’t exactly concentrate when he’s sucking hickeys into Cas’s neck and Cas is making downright  _ sinful _ noises in response.  _ Well, that’s ironic. _ So Dean wastes no time in stripping Cas of his pants.

He shimmies down Cas’s body until his mouth is level with the other man’s cock. Cas’s back is arched over the arm of the couch, and he grips the couch leather in one hand and Dean’s hair with the other when Dean takes the tip of Cas’s dick into his mouth. It’s a little salty from the precome, and Dean slowly pushes it farther into his mouth. “ _ Dean _ ,” Cas moans. “Fuck.”

Dean would grin if he could, but his mouth is too far stretched around Cas’s  _ huge _ cock, so he settles for a wink up at Cas. Dean starts deepthroating, and the mangled noises that are coming out of Cas’s mouth make his spent dick take some interest again. Dean can’t even hear his own moans over Cas’s. He pulls his mouth off with a  _ pop _ and starts swirling his tongue around the head, rubbing the shaft with his hand. “ _ Dean! _ ” Cas says- and then suddenly Cas is coming, and it’s all over Dean’s face. He swallows and licks as much of it as he can get, reveling in the taste of Cas once more. He crawls back up Cas’s body, and Cas kisses him again, his tongue roaming throughout Dean’s mouth.

“I guess neither of us have the stamina we want,” Dean jokes. Cas smiles, one of his rare, full-blown smiles where his blue eyes crinkle at the corners and he shows as much gum as teeth, and Dean can feel himself falling for Cas all over again.  _ That wasn’t the plan. _

It doesn’t exactly matter, though. Cas uses a napkin to wipe them both down. “We could… take a shower,” Cas suggests.

Dean pales at the thought of shower sex.  _ Cas isn’t Alastair. _ It makes no difference. He’s overwhelmed with the memories of Alastair’s hands on him, the pounding of the company shower being the only thing keeping his muffled cries for help from being heard.  _ Cas isn’t Alastair. _

Cas catches onto Dean’s shift, and Dean has never been so grateful. “Or we could shower separately.”

Dean nods, and they stay like that- Cas wrapping Dean in his arms, Tombstone playing in the background- for a few minutes. “Uh, after college, uh… well, the company I worked for… uh, the CEO wasn’t a good guy. And I used the company showers, since they were better than the one at my apartment. And…”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“You told me your sob story. I should tell you mine in return.”

Cas looks Dean straight in the eye, with that gaze of his that makes Dean feel like he’s staring into his soul. “Dean. Everyone involved with mine is dead. I’ve spent years in therapy. I’ve had more tools for recovery. You  _ absolutely _ do not owe me anything.”

Somehow, Cas says it without making Dean feel like a fuckup, and Dean feels something that he hasn’t felt in  _ years _ rise in his chest. He’s not going to name it. He has  _ some _ self-preservation skills, after all.

He rubs a hand over his face. “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas smiles at him as he gets up to go shower. Tombstone can wait; he’s going to get under some hot and steamy water and scrub Alastair’s memory off of his skin.

…

Dean ends up with Cas in his bed that night, and his usual nightmares don’t plague him. Again. He’s starting to think it has something to do with Cas.

Of course, Dean gets complacent, and he honestly wishes that he’d had the nightmares. He’s only a heavy sleeper when he doesn’t have them. Which is probably why he doesn’t hear his door being kicked in.

“Dean!”

_ Who the fuck is that? _

“Dean, run!”

_ Is that Cas? _

“Dean!”

_ Holy shit, that’s Cas! _ Dean sits bolt upright in bed. “Cas?” he calls.

“Dean, get o-” Cas’s voice is cut off by the sound of a blow.

Dean sprints out of the bedroom and into his living room.  _ Fuck. Fuck no. _

Metatron, his face swollen and disfigured, is standing with a gun to Cas’s head. Cas himself is bruised and bloody, only held up by Metatron’s grip on his collar. Dean moves to face Cas. “Don’t!” Metatron warns.

Dean stops and puts his hands up. “All right, let’s put the gun down, shall we?”

His heart is pounding like a jackhammer. All he can see is Cas, blood dripping down his face, with a  _ gun _ to his head. “Dean, why didn’t you-”

Cas is cut off again by Metatron pistol-whipping him. Dean flinches as Cas’s neck turns at an odd angle. “Shut up! Both of you!” Metatron screeches.

“All right! All right!” Dean says. “Just- just leave him alone! Please!”

Metatron’s face splits into a demented smile. “Oh, wow, look at oh-so-handsome Mr. Winchester saying  _ please _ to the lowly Marvin Metatron!”

Panic starts to claw at Dean’s insides, growing every second that Cas lies motionless. “Okay, what do you want?”

“What do I  _ want? _ It’s too late for that, buddy. Your  _ pet lawyer _ has put every other lawyer in New York on my ass! I’m ruined!” Metatron spits.

Dean’s not sorry. The only thing he’s sorry for is that he didn’t wake up in time.

Cas is stirring now. “Cas?” Dean asks, taking a step forwards.

“I said  _ don’t! _ ” Metatron turns the gun on Dean.  _ Perfect. Something’s finally going my way. _

“Fine! Fine!”

Metatron’s eyes take on a hellish glint. “Actually, you know what? I want you to feel the same thing that I did. You’ve got rope in your supply closet. You have thirty seconds to get it, or he dies.” He points the gun at Cas’s head again, and now Dean has no choice but to comply. He sprints to the supply closet and back as Metatron counts down. “Tie your arm to your coffee table.” With shaking fingers and eyes trained on Cas, Dean knots the rope. “Yank on that rope as hard as you can.”

When Dean’s arm comes loose, Metatron pistol-whips Cas again. Dean feels the bile rise in his throat.

“Tie it as tight as you can, or he gets more of this.” Metatron gestures with the gun towards Cas as Dean ties the rope properly this time. “Yank.” The rope stays in place this time. “Good.”

Metatron drops the gun on the coffee table and walks over to Dean.  _ Please knock him out, please knock him out, _ Dean prays as he throws a punch with his free hand.

God hates Dean Winchester, so it seems. Metatron kicks Dean three times in the belly, and when he’s done, Dean throws up. Metatron doesn’t seem to care about the brown stuff around his feet as he ties Dean’s other arm to the table.

Jab. Kick. Jab. Cross. Dean’s head swings as if it’s on a hinge, and he can taste the bitterness of his vomit and the iron tang of his blood mixing together. Across from him, Cas has tears flowing down his face, and Dean has the vague notion that he’s going to die for nothing. He can’t save Cas. “I- I need you,” Dean slurs. If he’s going to die, he’s at least going to tell Cas that he- well, Cas knows.

He throws up again when Metatron kicks him in the stomach twice more. “I said  _ no talking! _ ” His finger gets stomped on and a tooth chips. The pain starts to blur into one big indescribable mass, and Dean is starting to lose consciousness-  _ finally _ \- when somebody busts in through his door.

He can’t see who it is- the angle that he’s tied at plus the eye that’s swollen shut won’t allow him- but he can hear pretty clearly. “NYPD! Put your hands up!”

Cas’s fucking  _ beautiful _ grin is the last thing that Dean sees before he blacks out.

…

Dean regains consciousness in a hospital room. Someone is holding his hand, and he can hear Sammy’s voice in the background as the world slowly fades in. “Fuck,” Dean groans.

“Dean!” three voices exclaim at once.

“Ow,” Dean replies. He turns his head. Cas is the one holding his hand, and Sammy and Sarah are displayed on Dean’s phone. “Hey.”

Cas squeezes his hand- thankfully it’s not the one with the cast on it-  _ oh shit, that’s a cast _ \- and smiles one of his rare smiles, tears filling his eyes. One of them is practically black, and he has a bandage over his forehead and two butterfly closures over his nose. There are several cuts on his cheekbones, and his lips look like they lost a fight with a cheese grater. He’s even sitting in a wheelchair. “You look like shit,” Dean tells him.

“You should see yourself,” Cas tells him.

Dean furrows his brows. “What happened?”

As if on cue, a doctor walks in. “Mr. Winchester, you’re awake! I’m Dr. Cartwright.”

“You… obviously know my name. What happened to me?” Dean asks.

“You came in with a broken finger and arm, very minor internal bleeding, bruised ribs, major contusions, lacerations all over yourself and glass embedded in some of them.”

“Glass?” Dean asks.

Cas shudders. “The coffee table.”

“Huh.”  _ I guess I really  _ was _ out of it. _ A vague sense of fear lurks underneath Dean’s hazy memories of Metatron and he decides to stop thinking about it.

“You were both very lucky. All your organs are fine now, and if you spend the day in the hospital, you can get discharged tonight. Mr. Novak can too. His injuries are less severe than yours, but we were worried about a concussion.”

“Great,” Dean says. He needs to check up on Emma.

“You have another visitor,” Dr. Cartwright tells him. “The cop that made the arrest.” She raises her eyebrows. “You up for him?”

“Send ‘em in,” Dean replies.

Cartwright leaves, and an officer walks in that looks vaguely familiar to Dean. “Hey, Dean,” he says.

“Wait a second.  _ Victor _ ?” Dean asks at the same time that Sam says, “Victor Henriksen?”

“Yep.”

“Shit, man,” Dean says, trying not to laugh and irritate his ribs. “How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good, Winchester. I’ve gotta leave, but I just needed to get your statement.”

“Uh,” Dean starts.  _ Should I tell him about Emma? _ “Just about what happened tonight, right?”

Victor’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, why?”

Dean lets out a breath of relief. “No reason. Um, I woke up and Cas was hollering at me to get out-”  _ Shit _ , Dean thinks as panic starts to claw at his chest as he remembers Cas’s frantic voice. Cas’s fingers clutch at his, and even though he knows Cas is probably flipping his shit a little internally, Dean takes comfort in the fact that Cas is  _ here. _ He’s safe and sound and Metatron has been arrested. “So, uh, I went out to the living room. And, uh, I saw Cas- Metatron had him- and there was a gun to his head-” Dean is completely tensed up, and from his frequent glances at Cas, he sees that Cas’s muscles are bunched up too. Dean sniffles.  _ When the hell did I get teary-eyed? _ “Uh, I tried to get him to put the gun down. And then he made me, uh, get the rope from my closet and tie myself to the coffee table, and then he beat the shit out of me,” Dean finishes. A weight lifts from his chest, but the panic is still clawing at his gut and throat. He sniffs again. “What’s gonna happen to him?”

“He’s going to jail for a  _ long _ time, if not the death sentence,” Victor tells him. “Sorry, Dean. You gonna be okay?” Dean smiles and nods, and he doesn’t think that there’s a person in the room that believes him. Victor writes something down on a sticky note and hands it to Cas. “You take care of him, now. See you around, Dean,” he says.

“Hopefully not,” Dean tells him. “No offense.”

Victor chuckles and leaves, and a silence fills the room. “So, who was that?” Sarah asks with characteristic bluntness.

“High-school boyfriend. Only one who didn’t get scared off by John’s homophobic shit.” And now Dean’s got John Winchester  _ and _ Metatron on his mind.  _ Fucking great _ . “I’m gonna take a nap,” he says. “Bye, Sam, Sarah.”

Cas presses the End Call button. “I apologize for using your phone. I thought Sam would want to know.”

“You’re good, Cas. I’m guessing you gave him the rundown on where you were for those two years?”

“Yes. He was very understanding.”

“Good. Cas, I’m sorry for not looking for you.”

Cas shifts so that he’s looking Dean dead in the eye. “That’s not your fault.”

“And I’m sorry for not being able to help you last night.” Dean’s chest constricts as, unbidden, Cas’s bloody, tearful face comes to mind.

“I should’ve been able to handle it myself,” Cas says ruefully.

“He had a  _ gun _ , Cas.”

Cas seems to think about it for a few moments. “Well, I suppose that applies to you too, then,” he says with a sad smile.

There’s a brief pause before Cas asks, “Did you mean what you said?”

Dean furrows his brow for a few moments before the memory comes back.  _ Shit. _ “Um. Yes?”

Silence fills the air again, only broken by Dean’s “You don’t have to say any-”

“I love you.”

The force of the words take the breath out of Dean. “Uh, are you sure?”

Cas stares at Dean. “Dean Michael Winchester, please shut up  _ right now _ because there’s no situation where I would be less sure.”

A slow grin spreads over Dean’s face.  _ He loves me. He loves  _ me _. That gorgeous angel of a man loves  _ me _. _ “Get up here,” Dean says, shifting in the bed to make room for Cas.

Cas smiles again, and it’s like the sun coming out. He lets go of Dean’s hand for a second, and Dean mourns the loss of contact, and then Cas is on the bed, being careful not to disturb any of the wires or tubes, and his warm body is pressing into Dean’s. Dean slowly rolls on his side to face Cas. There’s only a millimeter of space in between their noses. Cas’s eyes have never seemed so blue. He grins even wider. Obviously his life isn’t perfect, but with Cas in it it’s as close to perfect as it can be.


	9. Bloody Teeth

Dean is back in school by Wednesday, with strict orders not to do anything that would aggravate his injuries for the next two days, at least. He looks like shit, but Charlie is a miracle worker with makeup, and only the worst of the cuts show. All of his friends from Sandover know what happened, thanks to Charlie’s idea for a group chat, and he’s periodically checked on by either another teacher or Sam texting him. It’s a little annoying, to be honest, but Dean’s lucky to have such good friends.

Ever since he and Cas got discharged, he’s pretty much been living at Cas’s house. Charlie brought him a garbage bag filled with his clothes and toiletries on Tuesday night, as soon as he got out of the hospital. He doesn’t think he can bear to go back to his house. Not yet.

The day flies by quickly. Students give him odd looks, but he doesn’t give a shit, honestly. Emma’s back in class, and her attendance record says that today was her first day back.

Dean is surprised by how much he missed while he was out. His classes have made progress on their projects, and by the end of the day, his spirits have been lifted, seeing all the work that’s been put into them.

Emma is the last student out, and she heads out of his room to go to her locker. As soon as she’s gone, Cas stops pretending to be heading out and kisses him- with  _ lots _ of tongue. “Mmph,” Dean groans as Cas’s tongue sweeps into his mouth. He grabs a fistful of Cas’s ass as Cas winds his fingers into Dean’s hair. “Christ, Cas.” They’re mostly out of view, but Emma is bound to come back any-

“Jesus, that’s gross,” Emma says.  _ Is her voice shaky, or is it just me? _

Cas and Dean jump apart, and Cas looks as embarrassed as Dean feels. The heat in his cheeks intensifies as he realizes that another teacher, Arthur Ketch, is standing at his door with a binder in his hands. “Shit,” Dean mutters.

“Indeed,” Cas murmurs back. “I’ll be going now,” he announces, leaving the room with his head held high. The only thing stopping Dean from ogling Cas’s ass is the fact that Ketch is tight with Crowley, and Dean’ll be in enough hot water with the principal already once he finds out.

“This belongs to one of your students,” Ketch says, crossing the room to hand Dean the binder.

“Thanks.” Dean plasters on a fake smile.

Once Ketch leaves, Dean slumps in his chair. Emma just raises her eyebrows and gets to work, and Dean checks on her periodically.

Three hours later, the embarrassment has faded to a manageable level, even though the worry that he’s gonna get fired hasn’t dissipated at all. “How much of that did you-”

“Too much.  _ Way _ too much.” Emma winces. “Well, at least I know that I have hope for getting some ass even when I’m sixty.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dean pouts. “I’m only thirty.”

“You act like an old man.”

“Well, I don’t need Viagra, and Cas is very happy about that.”

Emma laughs. “Gross!”

Her laugh turns into a wheeze and she doubles over. “Emma? You good?” Dean asks.

Emma straightens her back out, nods and smiles. Her teeth are bloody.

“Emma!” Dean yells as she collapses. He hurdles his desk, ignoring the flare of pain burning in his ribs, his heart pounding in his chest, and gets a hand under her head. “Emma, can you hear me?”

There’s no response.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” He grabs his phone and calls 911.

“911, what is your emergency?” the dispatch officer says.

“Uh, my kid just collapsed, and her teeth are bloody,” Dean says, trying to keep his voice from shaking. How did he not realize it earlier? The huge clothes, the concealer, all of it- that’s what  _ he _ used to do whenever John hit him.

“Is your daughter breathing?” the officer asks.

“She’s not my daughter,” Dean whispers as he puts a hand a few inches over her mouth. If Emma was his daughter, maybe he could’ve protected her from whoever’s at home. “Yes. Yes, she’s breathing.” Dean almost sobs with relief.

“What is your address?”

“Um… uh… I don’t know the address. Uh, we’re at Sandover Prep.”

“All right, sir, an ambulance is on the way.”

…

Emma is unresponsive as the paramedics load her onto a stretcher and put an oxygen mask over her mouth, but she opens her eyes as she’s being loaded onto the ambulance. One of her hands shoots out to grab Dean’s wrist, and she clutches so tightly that Dean thinks she’s gonna cut off his blood supply. “Hey, Emma, it’s all right. You’re going to the hospital now. Whoever did this to you isn’t here. They’re not gonna be near you, okay? You’re good.”

Emma nods frantically to each of Dean’s statements and tugs on his wrist. “You want him to come?” a paramedic asks Emma.

She nods, her eyes rimmed with red.

“Okay, Emster, I’m coming.” Dean clambers into the ambulance.

As they speed down the streets of New York, Emma keeps her death grip on Dean’s wrist. “Hey, Emster. Is it all right if I call Cas and tell him what’s going on once we get to the hospital?” She hesitates, and Dean tacks on, “If you don’t want to, I’ll make something up.”

With her free hand, Emma makes a cell phone gesture and nods.

“Thanks, Emster. You’re gonna be okay, all right? We’re gonna get there and then the doctors will find out what happened to you and they’re gonna fix it, and whoever did this is gonna stay far away. You’re gonna be just fine.” Dean’s heart is still beating much too fast as they screech into the ambulance bay.

It’s nothing like Doctor Sexy, he’s gotta admit. Doctors swarm around and it’s not coordinated at all. Emma is whisked away, and Dean is left with the paramedics. One of them seems to take pity on Dean and she takes him to the waiting room. “She’ll be fine, hon.”

Some doctors come over to him and ask him some questions, and he barely knows the answer to any of them. Once they leave, Dean pulls out his phone and dials Cas. He picks up on the fourth ring. “Hello, Dean.”

“Cas? Uh, you know Emma?” His voice is too high-pitched, but he can’t seem to get it to a normal level.

“Yes, why?”

“I had to take her to the hospital.” Dean’s breaths are coming in shaky gasps.  _ Jesus Christ, get a grip, man. It’s not like she’s really your kid. _

“Send me your location. I’m getting in a cab.” Cas hangs up.

Dean sinks into his chair as a flood of relief rushes through him. Cas’ll come, and he’ll know what to do.  _ Just keep yourself together until Cas gets here. _

…

Castiel is grateful that he didn’t get into pajamas when he came home. He dashes out of the apartment and hails a cab, so preoccupied that he doesn’t realize that his shoes are on the wrong feet.

He knows Dean has a parental relationship with Emma. What he  _ doesn’t _ know is how he fits into the equation. He’s going to stay in the hospital until Dean asks him to leave, but will Emma even want to be around him? Would she even be alive at the end of the day?

The cab skids to a halt in front of the hospital. Castiel has been here a few times to volunteer, so he knows how to get to the waiting room. He spots Dean immediately. He’s sitting rigidly upright in his seat.

“How is she? Do you know?” Castiel asks, sliding into the seat next to Dean’s.

Dean jumps a little bit. “Last I heard was that she had a broken rib and a lung thing,” he tells Castiel. “I couldn’t really focus on what she was saying.”

Castiel isn’t very apt at reading human body language, but he knew Dean for three years, and Dean is very obviously upset. Castiel takes Dean’s hand. “She’s going to be all right, Dean.”

“You know what? I should’ve realized. I had the same shit going on. I should’ve realized.” Dean’s voice is rough, like somebody’s run his vocal cords over sandpaper.

Castiel tenses at the mention of John. He knows that Dean has recovered as much as he can from his childhood, but Castiel is still angry on Dean’s behalf. “Nobody can fault you for that.”

“I should’ve realized, Cas. I could barely protect Sammy, and I should’ve protected her.”

Castiel takes Dean’s chin in his hand and forces Dean to look him in the eye. “She will be fine. CPS will be notified and there will be an investigation and she will come out of surgery with no complications and it will all be  _ fine. _ ”

Castiel isn’t so sure about the truth of that statement, but Dean’s shoulders slump a little, so it doesn’t matter. “Thanks, Cas,” Dean says.

Castiel kisses Dean lightly. “You’re welcome, Dean.” He takes Dean’s hand, and Dean rests his head on Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel doesn’t mention how hard Dean is gripping his hand, and Dean doesn’t mention the tension in Castiel’s shoulders.

…

“Mr. Winchester? The patient is asking for you,” the doctor says.

Dean jumps up from the chair like he’s been electrocuted. “You good staying here?” he asks Castiel.

“Go on. Tell me how she’s doing later,” Castiel tells him. He worries for Dean and Emma, but nothing will be solved by waiting.

“Thanks, sunshine.” Castiel can see Dean tremble as he follows the doctor back.

…

Emma’s gut lurches in fear as Dean enters the room. “Hey, Emster, what’s up?” he asks, his voice rough as horsehair.

“Nothin’ much, old man,” she wheezes with a wan smile. She knows that they’re both thinking of CPS, but the doctor’s still in the room.

“You okay?” Dean raises his eyebrow as the doctor walks out. Once the door is shut, he asks, “Who did this?”

There’s barely controlled anger leaking into his voice, and Emma shrinks into herself a little. “My mom.”

“She the only one?”

“Yeah. She’s the only one at home.” Emma feels a random urge to crack her knuckles.

“All right, I’m calling CPS.”

Emma’s eyes widen, and fear shoots through her chest. “What? No!” She tries to sit up but falls back onto her pillow, coughing.

Dean moves to her side and pats her back. “Give me one good reason why not.”

“Because- because then my mom would get mad,” Emma tells him. Her breaths start coming fast and hard, and she feels like she’s about to have a panic attack.

Dean keeps rubbing her back. “Emster, trust me on this. It’s better to call CPS. It’s gonna be okay.”

“ _ You _ wouldn’t know about CPS,” Emma hisses weakly.

“I would, actually,” Dean says.

Emma is quiet for a few seconds. She’s not going to pry into it, but in the part of her mind that’s not in fight or flight mode, she wonders what happened to him. “I don’t want you to call them.”

“I know you don’t. But it’s necessary.”

“Fine, but on the condition that you gotta adopt me,” Emma tries to joke. Honestly, she’d _ like _ if Dean adopted her.  _ Don’t be stupid. He doesn’t want a fuckup like you for a kid _ . “I’m fine as it is. She would get even worse if you do this.”

“Kid, I gotta call.”

“I don’t want you to call them.”

“I know.”

Emma turns away from him. She doesn’t think she can face him right now. She knows how this’ll end. “I don’t want my mom to get mad.”

“I know.”

She sniffles. He’s obviously set on this, and there’s nothing she can do to stop him. She’s learned it’s just better to stop wrestling for control. “You know what? Do it. I don’t care. But come back tomorrow and you’ll see how this ends up.”

Dean pauses. “Good night, Emster,” he says, standing to leave.

Emma doesn’t reply to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly? i was going to write some more sam into this fic, but i was so busy putting the characters through hell that it never happened.


	10. Gryffinpuff

Castiel catches sight of Dean as the other man walks back into the waiting room, pulling his phone away from his ear. Castiel stands up and opens his mouth to ask how it went, but he catches the look in Dean’s eyes.

He looks shattered.

So Castiel takes Dean’s hand and the two of them walk out without saying a word. Dean’s nails are digging into Castiel’s skin, but he doesn’t say anything. Dean’s shoulders have an odd set to them that concerns Castiel, and they don’t relax throughout the entirety of the cab ride home. They walk up to Castiel’s apartment, and the second that they’re through the door, Dean sags against Castiel, clutching his trenchcoat. “I called CPS.”

“That’s good,” Castiel tells him. “You did a good thing, Dean.”

“Then why does it feel like I betrayed the closest thing to my kid?”

“Because you went against her wishes. But if she had gone home, her mother would’ve beaten her more, perhaps. Now her mother won’t be able to get near her, let alone hit her. You did the right thing.” Castiel’s heart breaks a little for Emma.  _ She must be terrified. _

Dean’s forest-green eyes look up at Cas, and the pain in them makes Castiel’s heart break for Dean too. “Okay,” Dean says, sounding worn to the bone. Castiel can’t imagine what Dean is feeling- memories of John must be running through Dean’s head and driving him insane.

Castiel pulls Dean closer, wrapping his arms around the other man and slowly leading them to their bedroom. And if Dean is sniffling into his trenchcoat and there’s a wet spot on the fabric when he pulls away, Castiel doesn’t mention it.

…

Teaching the next day is a nightmare, but Dean’s spirits are boosted halfway through the day when Vic calls and tells him that Metatron has been given a life sentence.

“The judge we have, Sully Zanna- he’s got a reputation for being tough on people like Metatron, and for some reason, Metatron’s lawyer was screwing up  _ big time _ .”

Dean grins, and for the first time all day, there’s actual pleasure behind it.

“You wouldn’t know why, would you?” Victor asks.

“Nope. Not at all.”

“Hm. Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about from him,” Victor tells Dean.

“Thanks, Vic,” Dean says. He hangs up and turns to find Cas staring at him curiously. “Metatron’s got a life conviction.”

Cas visibly relaxes. “Thank God.”

“Ain’t that right.”

It’s fifth period, so neither of them have students. Dean puts his arms around Cas’s shoulders and pulls him close for a quick hug, letting the tension from the CPS situation and Metatron bleed out of his shoulders. He’s surprised that none of the students- or Crowley- have discovered them yet. He was  _ sure _ that Ketch would’ve spilled.

_ Spoke too soon, _ Dean thinks grimly as Crowley enters the room. He’s glad that he didn’t leave his arms around Cas.

“Mr. Winchester, Mr. Novak. Is it true that you two are engaging in a…  _ relationship _ ?” Crowley asks, no preamble, nothing.

“Yes,” Cas says, straightening up. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes, the fact that I told you  _ both _ that we discourage inter-staff dating  _ is a problem _ !” Crowley hisses.

“Mills and Hanscum are married. You don’t have an issue with them,” Dean points out.

“Exactly. They’re  _ married _ !” Crowley exclaims.

“You never explicitly prohibited inter-staff dating!” Dean says, his voice slowly getting louder.

Crowley sputters. “I assumed I was clear enough!”

“About what? The fact that you’re attempting to control our personal lives?” Cas asks, his tone sharp enough to cut and his eyes blazing with righteous fire.  _ Damn, that’s hot _ , Dean thinks.

Crowley sputters some more before saying, “This kind of insolence is  _ disgusting _ . Mr. Winchester, your contract is terminated. Mr. Novak, I will find myself some loophole to terminate yours. I-”

Cas cuts him off, standing up abruptly and saying, “Crowley, if you fire  _ either _ of us, I guarantee you that you will  _ never _ be able to hire again.”

And something in Cas’s voice makes Dean believe it.

Evidently, Crowley believes it too, because he slowly exhales and pulls up a chair. “Fine.  _ Fine _ . Let’s make a deal.”

Cas is left standing, so he sits down awkwardly. Dean shakes his head fondly before saying, “What do you want?”

“No PDA. I think that’s a reasonable deal, don’t you?” Crowley says, his voice like silk once more.

“What constitutes PDA?” Cas asks.  _ Atta boy. _

Crowley huffs impatiently. “No kissing, no hugging, no hand-holding, no  _ excessive touching _ anywhere in the school building.”

“Hold up. Let’s make it no PDA during classes,” Dean argues.

Crowley grits his teeth and rolls his eyes. “No PDA when students are around you- not in the class, in the hall, et cetera.”

Dean shoots a glance at Cas, who nods. “Fine.”

Crowley stands, every trace of irritation gone. “Alrighty then. It was a pleasure doing business with you boys.”

Dean gives him a blatantly fake smile as the man walks out. He turns to Cas. “That wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.”

“No, it wasn’t, but this isn’t ideal.”

“Then I’ll suck you off under your desk. Fuck Crowley, anyway.” Dean can feel himself spinning out a little, but he  _ knows _ that Cas is spinning out too, and it doesn’t matter as long as they’re on the same page.

…

Dean visits Emma as soon as school’s out. “They’ve started an investigation,” Emma tells him.

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah. I guess.” Emma starts to pick at her sheets.

They sit there for a moment in an awkward silence before Dean brings up her project. Emma’s more animated after that, and their conversation somehow devolves into whether Dean would be Hufflepuff or Gryffindor after Emma said she was a Slytherin. “I’m totally a Gryffindor!” Dean exclaims.

“You’re a total Hufflepuff! You had shit with Novak and now you’re  _ living _ with him, like, a month later!”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Who told you that I was living with him? And who told you I have shit with him?”

“Uh, half the time you come to class with each other’s clothes. Also, Claire overheard her moms talking about you.”

“God, I’m gonna  _ kill _ them.” Dean curses the day that he decided to vent to Jody and Donna. “Whatever. You never hang out with Claire outside of school- how would you know?”

Emma blushes a little. “We talk during class.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Disrespectful-ass youths. Jesus Christ.”

“Isn’t  _ that _ disrespectful?” Emma asks.

“Shut up.”

Emma snickers a little bit. Dean’s glad to see that her spirits are up- and that she can laugh without coughing now. “Ugh. Back to the point- you’re a  _ total _ Hufflepuff.”

“I’m a Gryffindor! Pottermore said so!”

“And how many times did you take the test?”

Dean pauses. “Twelve,” he mutters.

“Hoo boy. And how many times did you get Hufflepuff?”

“Six. But they were alternating with the Gryffindor results!”

Emma snickers again. “Admit it.”

“I won’t, ‘cause I’m not a Hufflepuff. Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“You just don’t wanna admit it.”

Dean raises an unamused eyebrow at her.

“Fine. Agree to disagree.”

“Good.”

“You could be a Gryffinpuff.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“A combination of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.”

“The fuck? That’s against the point!” Dean splutters.

“Am I wrong?”

“You know what? I’m not talking about that bullshit. The whole  _ point _ of the Sorting Hat is that you get  _ one house _ , not this combination bullshit. When’re you getting discharged?”

“They say maybe Monday,” Emma says, her voice suddenly downcast. “Then I go to a foster home.”

Dean can’t help the twinge of disappointment that goes through him. “I’m glad. You’ll get people who treat you like parents should.”  _ You wouldn’t be a good parent _ , Dean tells himself.  _ There’s no point hoping. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dean's views do not reflect my own. i'm a slytherin and my combo house is slytherdor, what about y'all?


	11. Cobalt Blues

There’s really no question about whose house the two of them go to on Friday afternoon. Cas had come to the hospital with Dean, and they stay for two hours before Emma says, “I need a nap.”

“All right, we get it. Let’s go, Cas,” Dean says, standing up.

Castiel smiles at Emma and stands. He’s still rather shocked that Emma had wanted to talk to  _ him _ , too. Dean had come back to the waiting room and asked Castiel to come with, saying that Emma wanted to judge him. He hopes that he’s lived up to the standard.

Dean takes his hand. “Goodbye, Emma,” Castiel says.

“Bye,” Emma tells him as they leave.

“Do you think I was acceptable?” Castiel asks Dean as they walk out of the hospital.

“I think she liked you,” Dean says. “Good thing, too.”

“What would you do if she didn’t?” Castiel asks, only half-jokingly.

Dean falls silent for a moment. “It would depend on the reason.”

Honestly, that’s what Castiel would’ve said too. “That makes sense.”

The two of them walk hand in hand onto the subway and head home. At least, Castiel  _ hopes _ that Dean is willing to call it home.

…

Dean pulls Cas into the apartment and pushes him up against the door for a languorous kiss. “Mmph. Dean,” Cas groans. “Dean. Let me put our stuff down.”

Then a hand is snaking around Dean’s waist, pulling them so close together that there’s not an inch of space left anywhere, setting Dean’s nerve endings on fire. Cas’s electric blue eyes are staring into his, and their noses are practically touching.

And then Cas grabs Dean’s briefcase and ninjas himself free. Dean is left breathless, and he barely has a second to regain his bearings before Cas is kissing him senseless, and this time  _ he’s _ the one against the door. It’s not a particularly intense kiss, but something about the way Cas’s tongue darts through his mouth and Cas’s hands slowly strip him down makes his head spin. As soon as Dean has somewhat cleared his head, both of them are naked. Cas leads them back to the bedroom, moaning as Dean sucks hickeys into his neck. They fall backwards onto the bed, Cas pinning Dean down. Breathing heavily, Cas pulls back, looming over Dean and staring hungrily with lust-blown eyes. Dean’s dick has  _ definitely _ taken an interest, and Cas slowly starts to stroke it, staring at Dean the whole time. “Christ, Cas,” Dean moans.

Cas is too busy getting out the lube to fake-chastise Dean. He lets go of Dean’s dick to slick up his fingers, then slowly slides one in.

The burn is quickly replaced by pleasure as Cas’s finger hits Dean’s prostate. “ _ Fuck _ , Cas,” Dean grunts. He looks up to see Cas giving his own dick a few strokes before he pushes another finger in. He scissors them against Dean’s prostate, and starbursts explode in his vision. He reaches up, clutching at Cas’s arm.

“ _ Dean _ ,” Cas hisses. “God, you’re so tight.” Cas slides the third finger in, and Dean starts to think that he may catch on fire.

“Jesus fucking- oh my  _ god _ ,” Dean groans as Cas’s fingers start to find his prostate again.

“I still know how to turn you on.” Cas flashes a gummy smile, in contrast to his lust-filled eyes. “How to make you  _ squirm. _ ”

And then he lowers his head and bites Dean’s nipple as he slams his fingers against Dean’s prostate, and Dean nearly comes then and there. “ _ Fuck, Cas! _ ”  _ Oh, I’m gonna get him back for that. _ Dean pulls Cas’s mouth up to his, wraps his legs around Cas, and starts to stroke Cas’s dick. “Fuck me,” he whispers into Cas’s mouth. He pulls away just in time to see Cas’s jaw clench, and his dick gets harder in Dean’s grip.

Cas reaches for a condom, and Dean feels a flash of boldness run through him. “I’m clean,” Dean tells Cas. “And the only person I slept with after I got tested last is you.”

Cas hesitates. “I’m clean as well. I was tested two weeks ago.” He raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Dean reaches up and pulls Cas down for another searing kiss. When he pulls away, he says, “Fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Cas’s dick is rock-hard now, and Dean picks up the lube and slicks up Cas’s dick for him. Cas throws his head back and lets out some sort of growl-whimper. When Dean is finished, Cas pulls out his fingers, leaving Dean feeling stretched and empty. The feeling doesn’t last, though, as Cas slowly slides into Dean. It’s torturous, the slow way Cas is going. After a few slow thrusts, Cas hits Dean’s prostate. “Mother _ fucker _ !” Dean grits out as Cas hits his prostate with a series of slow, hard thrusts. “ _ Faster! _ ”

Cas slows down even more-  _ that petty little shit _ \- but makes up for it with a kiss that makes Dean feel like he’s floating. The hard, carefully timed thrusts send both of them to the edge in a matter of minutes. “Dean, I-” Cas’s hips stutter and he starts to thrust faster.

“Cas- I’m gonna-  _ fuck _ !” Dean exclaims as he shoots his load all over his and Cas’s chests.

“Dean!” Cas groans as he comes inside of Dean.

Cas falls onto Dean’s chest and the two of them lay there, panting, until Dean slowly worms his way off of Cas’s cock and grabs a tissue from the box on Cas’s bedside to clean them off. He winces at the sensation of come dripping out of his ass.  _ Christ, I need to shower. _

It takes him a few seconds to realize that he didn’t flinch after thinking of showering around another person. He smiles a little bit. There’s still no way he’ll  _ actually _ shower with Cas, but he’s made progress.

Dean is pulled back to the present by Cas’s head thunking onto his chest, sound asleep.  _ Ow _ . He can’t find it in him to be annoyed- Cas sleeping is fucking  _ adorable _ \- but  _ Christ _ , his chest hurts.

He slowly maneuvers out of bed, careful not to wake Cas, and goes to take a shower.

…

Dean is sitting at the table, just trying to enjoy his Sunday breakfast. His phone is dead- it conked out as he was designing Sammy’s wedding invites- and his charger is broken, and he and Cas don’t have the same charger, so his day hasn’t started out great. And then Cas asks, “Would you like to move in with me?”

Dean chokes on his pancakes, coughing for a few moments. When he recovers, he says, “What?”

“Would you like to move in with me?”

Cas is tugging at the sleeves of his shirt, but otherwise he looks completely composed.  _ Get yourself together, man, _ Dean thinks. He opens his mouth, but no words come out.

Well, there would be no downsides to living at Cas’s place. He’d only have to go back to his old place a few times more, they’d both have better rent, he’d get to spend his nights with Cas  _ every night _ , and the commute was way easier.

_ But what if you guys have a horrible breakup and he burns your shit and kicks you out? _ the little voice in Dean’s head says, despite the fact that Cas would never do anything like that.

Dean is sick and tired of listening to the little voice.  _ That same little voice told you that the letter was real, _ Dean thinks.  _ And then you didn’t look for Cas. _

Figures. Dean finally gets rational in one part of his brain and another part goes haywire. But that doesn’t matter right now.

“Sure,” Dean says.

Cas raises his eyebrow. “Are you certain?”

“Nothin’ to lose. Plus, if we’re doing the ‘real relationship’ shit again, it makes sense to move in. And we’d both save money.”

Cas’s face suddenly splits into a grin. “I get to wake up next to you every morning.”

“Fuckin’ sap.” Dean takes Cas’s hand anyway, and they finish breakfast together. Dean’s morning has suddenly gotten a hell of a lot better.

…

Dean uses Cas’s power bank and picks up a new charger on the way to the hospital.  _ Stupid smartphones with their stupid shitty battery life. I should’ve  _ never _ let Sam talk me into getting one. _ Well, at least Sam has sent Dean the guest list for the wedding already. It’s fairly small, and Sam and Sarah didn’t want paper invitations, so he finishes designing the invites on the subway. Cas looks over them, too. As they exit the station to the hospital and Dean  _ finally _ gets cell service, his phone starts buzzing.

At first he thinks it’s a call from the amount of vibrations pumping through it, but then he realizes that it’s a bunch of texts. He figures it’s from Charlie’s group chats for LARPing and teacher stuff and god knows what else, but he decides to check the messages app anyway.

_ Shitfuckingshitgodfuckingdamnit. _ They’re mostly from Emma- and the seven missed calls he has are from her, too. “Fuck,” Dean mutters.

“What is it?” Cas asks him.

Dean keeps scrolling through the messages.

_ 8:53 AM: Mom has picked me up from the hospital. _

_ 8:53 AM: She’s pissed. _

_8:54 AM:_ Contact: “ _Emster_ ” has shared their location with you.

_ 8:54 AM: Can you come get me? _

_ 8:54 AM: I don’t know the CPS number and I don’t have any data to look it up. _

_ 8:54 AM: I left the business card in the hospital. _

_ 8:54 AM: I thought she wasn’t allowed to come near me. _

_ 8:55 AM: Please respond. _

_ 8:55 AM: Dean? _

_ 8:56 AM: I’m scared. _

_ 8:57 AM: I have to delete this confvjfkcjk _

_ 8:57 AM:  _ Contact: “ _ Emster _ ” has stopped sharing their location with you.

“Dean?” Cas asks. Dean looks up, feeling the panic start to rise in him. Cas takes one look in his eyes and asks, “Is it Emma?”

Dean nods. “She’s in trouble.”

…

Dean didn’t really have hope, but he called CPS, the NYPD, Sandover, even the phone company. No response.

Cas hangs up on Cricket Mobile’s hotline and sighs. “No luck.”

Dean thunks his head against the apartment wall behind the couch.  _ Fuck the neighbors _ . “Fuck, Cas. What’re we supposed to  _ do _ ?” John had gone off the grid with him and Sammy before, but Dean had assumed that it was harder to do it now. Apparently not.

Dean feels like sobbing, but Cas pulls Dean down and hugs him, wrapping his thick arms around him and somehow pulling his fractured pieces back together. They stay like that for a while, with Dean’s head resting on Cas’s chest like it’s a pillow, and soon they’re asleep.

Emma chases Dean through his dreams- sometimes she’s dead, sometimes she’s battered, but she’s always blaming Dean. And Dean’s not going to stop her- he should’ve realized sooner.


	12. Out of the Blue

A blaring alarm sounds and wakes Castiel up on Monday morning. He opens his eyes slowly, gunk crusting them shut, and fumbles with his phone to turn it off.

_ Emma. Damn it. _ He sits bolt upright, forgetting about Dean’s head on his chest. “Fuck, Cas,” Dean says as he sits up, his voice raspy and thick with sleep. It eases Castiel’s worry for a moment- and then Dean exclaims, “Fuck! Emma!”

They both go for their phones. “I don’t have anything,” Castiel says. “Well, nothing of import.” Fear is slowly rising in his chest, and Castiel cannot control it.

“Nothing here, either. Goddamnit,” Dean grits out. His chest is heaving, and Castiel is able to let some of the pressure off of his chest, knowing that he has a task to focus on.  _ Calm Dean down. You can do that, can’t you? _

Castiel lays his hand on Dean’s arm and stares him in the eye. “Dean.”

Dean looks up from his phone, panic evident in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“We will find her.”

“Well, what can we do? We’ve got zilch. Nobody’s called us-”

“We can’t do anything right now. We still have to go to work, because that’s where Emma will expect you to be. After work then we’ll drive around and look.” Castiel exhales shakily. He doesn’t know how effective it will be, but he needs a plan. He needs a task, and he knows Dean needs one too, but he doesn’t know how long it’ll keep him from falling apart from stress.

Dean grabs Castiel’s arm in return. “Thank- thanks, man. Christ.” His head radiates warmth as it falls onto Castiel’s chest. Castiel holds him for a moment before Dean lifts his head. “Shit. Work.”

Dean pecks Castiel on the lips, releasing a surge of warmth that flows through Castiel, before climbing off the couch.

It’s only 6:15, so they have plenty of time to get ready and get to school. Neither of them are particularly present, though- Castiel almost brushes his teeth with shaving cream and Dean ends up putting three tablespoons of salt into his coffee. Castiel has never been so glad he takes his black.

“You kept the coffeemaker,” Dean notes as he makes himself another cup of coffee.

Castiel blushes a little. “I hope that’s all right. It was the only thing… well, it reminded me of you.”  _ When I thought you were dead. When I thought I had lost you forever _ . The unspoken words hang in the air, and Castiel hates thinking of when his partner was gone from him.

“Ah.” The coffeemaker beeps and Dean takes his fresh mug out of it. “I… you know you’re awesome, right?” he says gruffly.

“You are as well, Dean,” Castiel responds. He can’t help the warmth that floods his body, despite their situation.

“Fuckin’ sap,” Dean grumbles. Castiel smacks his ass in retaliation and watches, a smug smile on his face, as Dean jumps a foot in the air- thankfully without his coffee in hand- and blushes fire-engine red.

…

As they reach the school, Dean’s heart hammers even faster.  _ This is like… when I’ve been traveling for  _ hours _ and subsisting on coffee but I don’t want to go to sleep so I’m not jetlagged at my destination. And then it’s like I’m floating but I’m also so tired I want to die. That’s what this feels like _ . It’s not the most eloquent description, in Dean’s opinion, but it gets the job done. “What if she doesn’t show up?” Dean asks in a small voice as they walk from the station to Sandover.  _ God, I miss Baby. _

“Then we keep looking,” Cas replies. Their hands are entwined, and Dean is starting to think that the only warmth in his body is radiating out from their tangled fingers. The two of them walk onto the school’s lot, and Dean stops and pulls Cas close for a kiss just to spite Crowley.  _ And to de-stress because he’s the only one who you can actually properly be yourself around. Don’t forget that _ , his brain supplies unhelpfully.

Cas’s skillful tongue soon erases any coherent thoughts from Dean’s mind, and Dean wishes he could stay in their little bubble forever. However, Charlie has other plans. “Morning, bitches!” she exclaims.

Dean and Cas spring apart, and the weight of the situation falls right back down onto Dean’s shoulders again. He hasn’t told Charlie about Emma- he hasn’t told anyone except for Cas, actually. “Hey, Charlie,” he says, trying to go for nonchalant.

“You look like you’re sucking on a lemon,” Charlie replies. Cas cracks a grin at that one.

“Ha ha.”

“Indeed. Well, just wanted to say hi- I got a meeting that I need to get to. Peace out, bitches.” She grins at them before hurrying into the school building.

“Thanks, Charlie,” Dean grouses.

“Well, it’s a good thing she interrupted, or I might’ve been groping you in front of everyone in the building,” Cas says, in a voice so low it should be a sin.

Dean feels heat flood across his face. “Damn. Wish I could’ve seen that,” Dean replies.  _ It’s hard to be suave when your face is the shade of a tomato. _

“You will,” Cas promises.

That doesn’t help the blushing at all.

They keep walking towards the school, cutting through the parking lot to get to the door closest to Dean’s classroom. There’s a comfortable silence between them that’s only punctuated by the crunching of the leaves beneath their feet. Their hands swing lightly between them.

“Damn it. My lesson plans are in my room,” Cas says with a sigh. “I’ll stop by my classroom. Do you mind setting up the projector?”

“Not at all.” Dean pecks Cas on the lips. “Hate to see you leave, love to watch you go,” he says with a wink.

Cas slaps his ass again as he walks away.

The revving of a car catches Dean’s attention, and everything starts to register in brief flashes.

He looks to his right.

The car is accelerating, heading straight towards Cas.

_ The driver looks familiar. _

_ It doesn’t matter. _

_ Cas is in trouble. _

Dean starts to sprint.

“Cas!”  _ I’m not gonna make it. _

Cas turns around, clearly hearing the car as well.

The look on Cas’s face tears Dean’s heart in two.

The car hits Cas full-on and clips Dean, and everything speeds up again. Dean is thrown, and something in his ribs crack.  _ Again. _ He blacks out for a second, and when he comes to, he can’t seem to get air into his lungs.

_ It doesn’t matter _ . Dean looks up. The driver of the car has been thrown through the windshield despite the airbags, and shards of glass surround her.  _ It doesn’t matter. _ What  _ does _ matter is Cas, lying motionless on the ground in front of the car. It feels like the air has been knocked out of him again, but he manages to yell, “Cas!”

Dean registers wetness on his cheek- whether it’s blood or tears, he can’t tell- as he crawls over to Cas. “Christ, Cas,” Dean sobs.  _ Maybe it’s both. _ He pulls Cas’s head into his lap, stroking his stubbled cheek, for a few seconds before his common sense kicks in. “It’s gonna be okay, Cas. Come on, sunshine, I got you.”

With one hand, he pulls out his phone, continuing to stroke Cas’s face with the other. “911, what is your emergency?” the dispatch officer asks.

“Uh, my partner just got hit by a car,” Dean says, his voice teetering on the edge of hysterics.

“All right, what is your address?” the officer asks.

“Sandover- Sandover Prep.”

“We have paramedics on the way.”

Dean hangs up the phone. That’s all he needs to hear. He looks back down at Cas. Blood is trickling out of his mouth, and Dean can’t bear to look at the rest of his body. With trembling hands, Dean puts two fingers to Cas’s neck.

_ Thank God. _ Dean can feel a sluggish pulse, and he cups Cas’s face in his hands. Suddenly, Cas opens his eyes, the blue a stark contrast to the blood all over his face. “Shit, Cas. Can you hear me?” Cas nods ever so slightly. “Okay. Okay, sunshine, it’s gonna be okay. Just stay with me, all right? Please. Please, Cas. I can’t lose you again. The paramedics are gonna be here real soon. Just stay with me, okay?” Cas nods again, but Dean can see his eyes drifting slowly shut. “Cas,  _ please _ . We all need you here.  _ I _ need you here, Cas. Fuck, Cas. I love you, okay? So you can’t go.  _ Please _ . Jesus fucking-” Cas’s eyes close again, and Dean shakes his face. “ _ Cas! _ Come on, please! I did the ‘I love you’ shit. You’re supposed to stay with me.  _ Please! _ ” Dean is sobbing now, and each exhale makes him double over in pain. “ _ Please! _ ” Dean checks Cas’s pulse again. It’s gone.

_ CPR. CPR. Do CPR. _ Dean slowly maneuvers himself into position.  _ 30 compressions, two breaths. Let’s go. _ “Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive,” Dean sings, his voice cracking pathetically and his ribs cracking along with it. He feels like he’s going to black out, but he presses as hard as he can and gives the breaths. He repeats it a second time, and then his lungs give out on him. He collapses onto Cas’s chest. He can’t force himself to get up. His vision is going black, and then-

“Dean!” That’s unmistakably Emma’s voice. She sounds scared out of her mind. Dean tries to say something to comfort her, but all that comes out of his mouth is a faint wheeze- and then his world goes black.


	13. All Hell Breaks Loose

“Cas? Emma?” Dean mutters. He’s lying down and swaying slightly, and as he cracks open his eyes, he realizes that he’s in an ambulance.

“Sir?” the paramedic next to him asks. “Can you hear me?”

“Yep.” Dean screws up his face against the light shining down from the ceiling. He tries to turn his head, but there’s a neck collar preventing him from moving it. Slightly panicked, he flicks his eyes from left to right, but all he can see is half of the paramedic’s face. “How- how’s Cas? How’s Emma?”

The paramedic’s brows furrow for a second before she realizes who Cas is. “Oh. Mr. Novak has sustained some serious injuries, but we’re almost to the hospital and he’ll be treated immediately. The younger Ms. Cobalt has some injuries, but the doctors should be able to fix that. The elder Ms. Cobalt was pronounced dead on the scene.”

_ Huh _ , Dean thinks as his stomach lurches and he passes out once more.

…

Dean wakes up in a hospital bed, monitors beeping on either side of him.  _ Cas? Emma? _ He bolts upright in bed, pain flaring through his ribs. Dr. Cartwright is standing to his left, and she looks over, concern written on her face. “I know we were gonna schedule a follow-up appointment, but this is a bit soon, don’t you think?” she says. “I’d lie back down if I were you. Those ribs are pretty nasty.”

Dean reluctantly does as he’s told. “Where’s Cas? And Emma?”

Cartwright frowns. “You’re not Ms. Cobalt’s legal guardian, are you?”

“Her mom’s dead. She doesn’t  _ have _ a legal guardian.”

“You’re not wrong.” She sighs. “Ms. Cobalt is in surgery for the reopened punctured lung. She should be coming out of surgery right around now, but Mr. Novak is a different story. He…” She sighs again, and gives Dean a look that sends him spiraling downward.

“He’s  _ dead _ ? No, he can’t be. He can’t-” Dean starts to hyperventilate. He  _ just _ got Cas back- how is he supposed to lose him again?

“No! No, he’s still in surgery!” Cartwright exclaims. “My bad, Mr. Winchester. Mr. Novak is still in surgery. He has a damaged aorta and a small brain bleed, along with bleeding in what is most likely the kidney and liver.”

Dean gulps, and his stomach churns. “That- that doesn’t sound good.”

Cartwright’s face is grim. “It’s not. Our surgeons are excellent, but it’s very touch and go right now. I have an intern giving me updates, but we’ll only really know more once he’s out of surgery.”

Dean’s breaths are coming fast and heavy, and the pain in his chest makes him think that his heart has been run through a woodchipper. Or maybe it’s just his ribs. Either way, Cas might- he…  _ He’s not going to die _ , Dean tells himself.

“Take a few deep breaths, Mr. Winchester. He’ll be fine,” Cartwright tells him.

Dean inhales slowly, but it does nothing to calm his rapid heartbeat.  _ He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine, because he’s Cas. He’s always fine. _

…

The first thing Castiel registers is that he is in pain. It’s not as bad as when he got hit-  _ I was hit by a car _ , Cas thinks in slight amazement.

The next thing he registers is that there is a hand holding his. It’s rough and calloused and large, and Castiel knows without hesitation that it’s Dean’s.

He opens his eyes, squinting against the sudden light. “Dean?” he asks, realizing too late that Dean was sleeping.

Dean lets out a snort as he jerks awake. “Cas!” he cries. “You’re up!”

Castiel nods. “I was hit by a  _ car _ .” He can still remember the terror that overtook him, the realization that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Dean stares straight into Castiel’s eyes. “You’re safe now, Cas,” he says, as if he’s read Castiel’s mind. The words ease Castiel’s fear more than he thought they would. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Castiel tightens his grip on Dean’s hand. “Did you… did you really say all that, or was that just a hallucination?”

Dean blushes a little, pink dusting the tops of his cheeks. “I said it. And I meant it. Jesus, Cas, what if…?”

The question hangs in the air. “I didn’t, though. And you didn’t either.” Castiel smiles briefly at Dean. “Do they know who it was?”

Dean sighs, his face a picture of regret. “It was Emma’s mom. Emma’s here, too- she was in the back seat. She’s fine, and I was talking to her until you got out of surgery. She said her mom was drunk and pissed, and she thought you were me.” He sniffles, and Castiel realizes that his eyes are red. “She was aiming for  _ me _ , Cas. I’m so sorry. It should’ve been me.”

Fury runs through Castiel, setting him on fire. Fury at Emma’s mother for  _ hitting him with her car _ , fury at John Winchester for instilling such a guilt complex in Dean’s head, fury at the world, at an absent God, for allowing this to happen. “Dean. I could not be happier that she hit me instead. This was  _ not _ your fault, and anyone who cares to say otherwise is an  _ idiot _ .”

Dean sniffles again and lifts Cas’s hand to his lips. “Cas, I almost lost you.”

“You didn’t. I’m right here. You’re not going to lose me, Dean.”

The right side of Dean’s mouth curves upwards, and his eyes light up a little. “For what it’s worth, you ain’t losing me either.”

Castiel can feel himself blush. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Cas.”

…

Dean asks for a week off, and by some miracle, he gets it. He spends the night and the next day in the hospital, rotating between his and Cas’s room in a wheelchair. Cartwright eventually gives in and moves his bed to Cas’s room. “Just a heads up- the nurses come in every few hours, so unless the public stuff is your thing…” she says with a grin.

Dean laughs, but he knows Cas isn’t heeded by the warning, and Dean isn’t complaining. However, the second Cartwright leaves, Cas says, “Moving you took a while. You should go see Emma and fill her in, if she’s awake.”

Dean concedes and wheels himself to Emma’s room. She’s sitting up in bed, watching TV. “Hey, Emster,” he says.

“Hey.”

The kid looks downcast, and Dean can’t blame her. “I’m glad you wore your seatbelt.”

Emma laughs humorlessly. “I’m glad my mom didn’t wear hers.”

Dean’s a little taken aback, but he can understand that. “I’m hoping that the next one in the chain of command isn’t a dick.”

Emma laughs again, and the sound is even more hollow than the first time. “There isn't a next one. It was supposed to be my dad.”

“You got no other family?” Dean asks.

“Nope. So I guess I’m getting shipped off to foster care.”

Dean  _ hates _ his brain sometimes. Especially at times like these. “I could adopt you,” he blurts.  _ Dude, have some tact! Her mom just died! _

Emma, however, lights up. “Really?” she says with a smile.

Suddenly, her eyelids start to flutter. “Emma?” Dean asks.

“What?” she replies. Her happy expression morphs into a terrified one. “What’s happening?” she cries.

“Shit,” Dean says. He jabs at the call button on Emma’s bed.  _ What the fuck is happening? _

Everything happens so damn  _ fast _ . Nurses flood the room, then doctors, then Emma is being whisked away, leaving Dean alone in an empty room.


	14. All Hell Breaks Loose: Part Two

Dean wheels himself back to Cas’s room, cold and numb. “How’s Emma?” Cas asks.

“Something happened to her, and I think she had to go back to surgery.”

Cas’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.”

“Yep. Oh, and I said I was gonna adopt her.” It’s a bombshell, and it’s an unfair one to drop on Cas, but Dean is too numb to care. There have been too many shocks to his system already today.

Cas raises his eyebrows. “Where would that put me?” His voice is carefully controlled, and Dean suddenly feels like he’s screwed up. He  _ has _ .

“Well, shouldn’t we wait to see if she  _ lives _ first?  _ Then _ we can talk about you,” Dean snaps.  _ Shit _ . He didn’t mean to snap. He didn’t mean for it to come out that way.

“I didn’t mean to reduce Emma,” Cas starts.

“Well, that’s great.”  _ Fuck. That came out wrong too. _ Dean opens his mouth to try and fix it, but it’s too late- deep hurt flashes across Cas’s face before being replaced by a cold mask.

“I think you should leave for a bit,” Cas says.

Dean suddenly feels like he doesn’t have any air. He can’t reply. After a minute of silence, he says, “I love you. I’m sorry.”  _ That won’t fix anything. Just get out. _

“I love you too, Dean. Just-” Cas sighs. “I need some time.”

Dean wheels himself out.

…

Castiel replays Dean’s words in his mind, driving the knife a little deeper each time. He feels restless. He needs to move. He needs to get  _ out _ of this damn room.

The next time a nurse comes in to check on him, he asks about a wheelchair.

“Sorry, Mr. Novak. Dr. Cartwright wants you in bed for at least another two days,” the nurse says with an apologetic expression. Castiel’s face must’ve shown his emotions too much, because the nurse sighs and says, “However, I can get a staff member to wheel you around the halls for a while.”

“That would be appreciated,” Castiel tells him. “Thank you.”

“No problem, buddy.” Castiel’s heart twists. The nurse sounds completely different from Dean, but his voice is rough and the word “buddy” coming out of his mouth reminds Castiel too much of Dean.

As promised, a hospital worker comes in a half hour later and pushes Castiel around the hallways. He’s not very chatty, which Castiel appreciates and hates in equal measure, because all he can hear in the silence is the acidity in Dean’s tone.

…

Dean spends forty-five minutes in Emma’s room.  _ Cas’s family should be here _ , he thinks. Not his mother or those douchebags Michael and Lucifer, but his father and Cas’s closer siblings. He hasn’t talked to Jimmy Novak in years, but it’s worth a shot. His phone still has Jimmy’s contact info, so he dials the number.

He’s unprepared for the crushing feeling of disappointment that he gets when it goes to voicemail. “Hey, Jimmy. This is Dean Winchester. Uh, listen, Cas is in the hospital. He really needs you guys, I think.” He lists the hospital’s address. “Uh, bye.”

He manages to sit for another fifteen minutes before wheeling himself back to Cas’s room and finding Cas gone.

“Cas?” Dean calls tentatively, as if the man is hiding in the bathroom or something equally stupid.

Dean checks the bathroom anyways. Cas isn’t there.

_ What if he had to go back into surgery? _ Dean thinks, balling his hands into fists and tapping his toes to dissipate the panicked energy rushing through his veins. He can picture Cas’s face clearly- maybe he’d be blue. Maybe he’d be having a seizure, like Emma. Maybe he’d be doubled over in pain. Maybe he’d be throwing up blood.

Dean’s nails are digging into his palm, but he can’t seem to feel them.

He tries to avoid thinking of the other option.

_ Maybe Cas left me for real. Maybe he came to his senses. _

_ Maybe he’s dead. _

The door bursts open, and for a second Dean thinks it’s Cas, before realizing that the man who just walked in holds his head up too high and slouches too much and isn’t on a gurney. “Dean Winchester,” the man says.

“Jimmy?” Dean exclaims in disbelief. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“Where is my brother?” Jimmy Novak asks.

“I don’t fucking  _ know _ ,” Dean replies. “That’s what I’m wondering.”

And then Chuck and Gabriel Novak walk in as well. “Jimmy? Did you find Cassie?” Gabe asks. “Hold up.  _ Dean Winchester _ ?” His eyebrows shoot up on his forehead upon seeing Dean.

“Shit,  _ please _ don’t tell me Anna’s here too,” Dean says. The Novak kids’ half sister, Anna Milton, had slept with Dean before he and Cas dated, and all their meetings had been awkward afterwards. Dean does  _ not _ have energy to spare making small talk.

“Today’s your lucky day,” Anna Milton says as she walks in. “Nice to see you too, Dean.”

“No offense, Anna,” Dean says with as much of a grin as he can muster. It’s rather pathetic.

“The front desk said that he’d be here,” Jimmy says. It’s still rather disconcerting to hear Jimmy’s voice coming out of Cas’s mouth.

“Not in surgery?” Dean asks.

“No. He’s supposed to be here,” Anna says with the same ferocity in her voice as her brother’s.

Dean sighs in relief, feeling on the verge of tears. Now he just needs to find Cas, track down Emma, and call Sam and tell him what happened.

“Father?” Cas’s voice asks from the doorway. A hospital employee is standing behind his gurney, looking awkward as all hell.

Dean whips around. “Cas!” He grins before remembering that they’re technically in a fight.

Cas grins back, even though it’s just for a second, so Dean figures that they’ll be okay. “Gabriel, Jimmy, Anna- how did you know I was here?”

“We’re still on your emergency shit, apparently,” Gabe says. “We got a call hours ago and took the first flight out.”

“Imagine how shocked we were when we heard you were  _ alive _ ,” Anna says, eyebrows drawn into a tight, furious line.

“Wait,  _ what _ ?” Dean asks.  _ Cas didn’t tell them he was  _ alive _? _ The orderly slowly backs away from the room, and Dean can’t blame him.

Cas looks incredibly guilty. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t-”

“Castiel, we thought you were  _ dead! _ ” Jimmy cries.

“For  _ years _ !” Gabe adds, his voice even louder than Jimmy’s.

“You couldn’t bother to pick up the phone?” Anna tacks on, practically yelling now.

“Lay off him!” Dean shouts at them. They all shut up. “He just got hit by a fucking  _ car! _ ” He’s not very intimidating while in a wheelchair, but they all look sorry.

Cas shoots him a quick  _ thank you _ glance. “Look, Mother told me that you all wanted nothing to do with me since I disappeared on you. I just wanted to honor your wishes.”

“That  _ bitch _ ,” Chuck says. It’s the first time Dean has heard him speak in all of the chaos. “Castiel, we never said anything of the sort.”

Cas opens his mouth and closes it again. Then: “Oh.”

Dean is still stunned by how low Cas thinks of himself. “I’ll kill her,” Anna growls. “Jesus.”

“No, I’m Castiel,” Cas quips. He looks tired, and Dean wishes he could fix it. Wishes he could make a little bubble for Cas, where he’d be safe and warm and happy. Where he wouldn’t be in danger of getting beat or pistol-whipped or shot or hit by a car. “It’s fine. Everything has turned out fine.”

_ Sure, Cas. It’s  _ fine _. Except for the fact that you still have to go to a therapist to deal with the PTSD. Except for the fact that you were hit by a car. Except for the fact that you’re stuck with an inconsiderate partner who can make you feel like shit too easily. _

A nurse pops her head into the room. “I’m very sorry, but visiting hours are over.”

Cas looks at his family. “We’ll talk tomorrow?” he says, his voice turning upwards at the end to make it a question. His voice is laced with uncertainty.

Chuck looks at Cas with kind eyes. “Of course, son.”

Gabe, Jimmy, and Anna all seem to soften, their rough edges being rubbed down with pity.  _ Cas hates pity. _ “See you tomorrow,” Jimmy says as they walk out with the nurse.

Dean fidgets with his ring. “I’m sorry, Cas. I should’ve talked with you before even offering, and I didn’t mean to- you know, minimize your importance. You’re- you’re one of the most important people in the  _ world _ to me, Cas.” It’s a painfully inadequate speech, and Cas deserves better, but Dean trusts Cas to understand.

“You should’ve asked, but I think you know me well enough to know that I’m willing to help you with Emma. If… if she’s all right with me being involved, then I’m willing to do it. I just- I don’t want to lose you again, Dean,” Cas explains haltingly.

Dean  _ understands _ . “I know I was a dick. I’m sorry, Cas. I don’t want to lose you, either, and I’m fucking  _ terrified _ that I will.”

It’s rare, but right now Cas’s expression is inscrutable. “You won’t lose me, Dean. Not if I can help it.”

Dean swallows, regains his bearings. “Uh- ditto, man.”

The right side of Cas’s mouth tilts upwards. Dean wants to kiss him. “You’re forgiven.”

Dean wheels himself to Cas’s bed. “Can I- can I, uh-”

Cas takes Dean’s face in his hands and kisses him softly. And even though the ever-present worry over Emma’s status is still in Dean’s chest, even though he still hasn’t called Sam, even though a thousand terrible things could happen to them at any second, the world seems to fade into the background.

Cas pulls away. “Go check if Emma’s in her room,” he says.

…

Emma wakes up to the sound of snores. She looks to her left. “Dean?”

“What?” he grumbles. His eyes fly open. “You’re awake!”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.” Anxiety gnaws at Emma’s gut. “I thought visiting hours were over.”

“Well, I think Cartwright told them that I was… y’know, your dad or uncle or something,” Dean says, shifting in the chair.

“Are you really willing to… y’know, adopt me?” Emma asks, wishing she didn’t sound like such a snot-nosed little kid.

“Yep,” Dean says. He looks nervous. “Uh, are you really willing to be adopted by me?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Emma says. “Thank God. I don’t want to go to some weird family that’ll sell my kidneys.”

Dean snorts, but his face grows serious once again.  _ Shit _ . Emma braces herself for the inevitable bombshell. “Would you be okay with Cas being involved?”

If Emma were in a TV show, there would  _ definitely _ be a record scratch played right now. “That’s it? That’s what you looked like you were gonna shit a brick for?”

Dean glares at her. “You know what? Just answer the question,  _ young lady. _ ”

It’s Emma’s turn to snort. She’s free from her mother- she feels too high to censor herself. “I assumed that y’all were a package deal.”

Dean looks like a goldfish, gaping and spluttering, and Emma tells him so. “Get off my back. Really?”

Emma raises her eyebrows in a “yes, really” gesture.

Dean’s face lights up. “I gotta tell Cas.”

“Tell him,” Emma says. As he wheels himself out, she calls, “Are you sure that  _ I’m _ the hormonal teenager here?”

“Whatever,” Dean calls back.

Emma can’t contain her grin.  _ I’m getting  _ adopted _. Jesus H. Christ. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emma's getting adopted!!!


	15. Home Inspection

Dean is discharged from the hospital with a “Stay out of trouble for  _ real _ this time” from Cartwright. He can’t wait for Cas to be discharged. He hasn’t had sex in a week. It doesn’t  _ seem _ like a long time, but when you spend three-quarters of the day with the love of your life and nurses come in so often that you can’t bang him (even though he’s willing to try it), it feels like an eternity.  _ Especially _ when the love of your life is- well, Cas. Regardless of the stupid hospital gowns and  _ fluids _ all over the place, Cas is still a sexy motherfucker.

Aaaand he’s about to pop a boner on public transport.

He thinks about the adoption papers for Emma, and  _ that _ kills the chub in a half-second. On the bright side, he managed to take care of literally  _ all _ Sam’s wedding shit in the hospital, so that’s one thing off his plate.

The train stops at his station, and he digs out the keys for Baby. It’s a little hard to walk, but nothing he can’t handle. His place is only a few minutes’ walk from the station anyway.

He pauses at the elevator doors. Charlie, being the wonderful woman she is, cleared out all of Dean’s shit and got her LARPing troop to bring Dean’s good furniture to the storage unit in Cas’s apartment and the bloodstained stuff to the dump. His landlord had agreed to cancel Dean’s lease at the end of the month. Dean has no  _ need _ to go back to his old apartment, and he’s glad.

He finds himself outside the door two minutes later, and he lets himself in.

He’s glad that the apartment is floored in hardwood. Somebody’s cleaned out the bloodstains on the ground, and the whole place is empty. He makes a mental note to send another gift basket to Charlie.

Dean walks down the hallway to the bedroom. Cas’s shouts echo in his head as he walks down the hallway, and he fights the urge to plug his ears and run out of the apartment.

He finishes his sweep and leaves, letting out a deep breath as he crosses the threshold. The click of the lock is almost  _ too _ satisfying. He practically sprints to the garage after that.

…

The New York City traffic is a bitch, but Dean manages to make it home fifteen minutes earlier than stupid Siri had told him. He opens Skype on his laptop and calls Sam.

He picks up on the second ring. “Hey, Dean,” he says.

Dean grins weakly. “Hey, Sammy. Where’s your better half? I, uh… well, there’s a  _ lot _ of shit I need to tell you.” He doesn’t know why he didn’t call while he was in the hospital. All he wants to do now is call Cas and Emma to say good night and then go the fuck to sleep.

Sam furrows his brows. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Dean nearly sobs as he laughs, the stress of the last few days catching up to him. “Well, let’s just say my insurance is working overtime.”

Sam knows to stop asking questions for the time being. “Sarah!” he calls. “Dean’s on the line.”

Sarah appears on the screen a few seconds later. “Hey, Dean!” she says with a smile. “We haven’t talked in a while.”

Dean grins halfheartedly. “Yep.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam asks, concern and confusion written on both his and Sarah’s faces.

“Uh, long story short- you remember Emma, right?” At their nods, Dean continues. “Well, her mother tried to hit me with her car. She got Cas pretty bad. I was better off. Emma was better than me, but worse than Cas. Uh, we had a few scares-” Dean scratches the back of his neck and looks down- “but they’re both recovering really fast. I’m adopting Emma, and somehow they managed to expedite the process. The home inspector is coming tomorrow, and if all goes well, Emma’s gonna be living with us as soon as she gets out of the hospital.”

Sam and Sarah both look like caricatures, with their mouths hanging open and their eyes wide. Sarah’s the first to speak. “So do we need to order another meal for the wedding?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god. i'm so gay for sarah it's not even funny


	16. Wedding Bells

Life isn’t perfect.

If there’s anything that Cas has learned over the course of his life, it’s that life isn’t perfect.

There’s job troubles and kidnappings and drug cartels and mortgages and car accidents and a whole host of other problems. There’s arguments, too, like the one that he and Dean are having now.

“Cas, I  _ told _ you to text me if you decided to meet Gabe!” Dean exclaims, trying and failing to keep his voice low so nobody hears them through the thin walls of Sam’s apartment. “Then I would’ve cancelled our dinner reservations!”

Cas sighs. “I  _ forgot _ , Dean. Why can’t you just let it be? It’s been a week!”

“Those reservations cost money!”

“Dean, we have  _ more _ than enough to cover that!” Cas argues, low voice forgotten.

“So? We were planning that dinner for such a long time!”

“Why do you care so much about a  _ dinner _ ?”

Dean splutters in rage. “Cas, it was a date night! And you missed the two date nights before that!”

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t talked to my brother face to face in  _ weeks _ , Dean! And his plane got moved up! I couldn’t reschedule that!”

“Did you even  _ think _ about texting me beforehand instead of when I was flipping my shit about where the fuck you were? It’s like you  _ want _ to leave me hanging!”

“Well, to  _ me _ it seems like you care more about the damned dinner reservations than anything else!”

Neither of them say anything else. Cas’s chest heaves in time with Dean’s. Surprisingly, it’s Dean who apologizes first. Usually, it’s Cas who gives Dean an underwhelming apology, then Dean breaks and explains everything, and then Cas breaks too.  _ Not this time, apparently. _ “I’m sorry, Cas, I just- I’m used to money being tight, and you’ve been ditching a lot lately. I-” Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Cas would be a liar if he said he didn’t watch the motion. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Cas’s resolve shatters. “You’re not- Dean, I would  _ never _ .” He stares at Dean. He can’t  _ imagine _ life without Dean again. “I don’t think date night is a big deal because all the  _ important _ things happen whether or not we do date night. I’m sorry- I know I should’ve texted earlier. But it seems like you cared more about the reservations more than me.”

“But date night  _ is _ important. It’s  _ symbolic _ .”

Cas sighs. He knows he should’ve tried to understand earlier. “I’m sorry. I should’ve-” He takes a breath, and Dean cuts in.

“You’re good, Cas. I’m sorry too. Of  _ course _ I care more about you than date night, but- you know- it’s just-”

Cas feels like he’s melting. “You’re ‘good’ too, Dean.”

Dean’s face cracks into a smile and he kisses Cas. Cas runs his tongue along the seam of Dean’s plush lips, and Dean grants him access easily. Cas wraps one hand around Dean’s waist and the other in his hair, and Dean’s hands follow suit. Cas’s cock is just starting to get hard when Dean pulls back. “We need to get to that wedding.”

…

Dean can’t say he doesn’t cry at all during the ceremony. It’s short, thank God, so he can sniff as loud as he wants as soon as it’s over and not ruin it by being the best man making disgusting noises behind the groom.

He’s rehearsed the best man’s speech so much even Cas got tired of it, but he’s still scared that he’ll flub it. He stands up. “I’ve gotta say. Sammy is the best brother a guy could ask for. We’ve been through a lot of shit together, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. See, we’ve both put each other through hell, and I practically raised this kid, but by some miracle he’s turned out all right. More than all right, actually- he’s turned out great. Still, I’m not sure how he managed to get a girl like Sarah.” The guests chuckle, and Sam shoots Bitchface #32 his way- the “I hate you but I still love you” bitchface. Dean grins at him and continues. “He and Sarah are perfect for each other- they’re both fucking  _ nerds _ . More than that, they both care about each other immensely and have the constitution to work out any shit life throws their way. To Sam and Sarah- I wish you the best of luck, but I know you won’t need it.” Dean sits down, face burning, as the crowd claps. Cas squeezes his hand, Emma grins, and Sam and Sarah beam at him.  _ I’m so fucking glad that no kids under twelve are here. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dean just wants STABILITY dammit! and poor cas he still has self worth issues :(((


	17. Round Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. the last chapter is upon us.

“Dean Michael Winchester, will you marry me?”

Dean almost drives them off the road. “What?” His heart jackhammers in his chest.

“You heard me,” Cas says gently.

Dean pulls over. “You’re proposing to me right now.”

“Yes. I’ve known you for fifteen years, Dean, even though we’ve only been together for six. I’ve seen you at your lowest and your highest. There’s no part of you that I don’t love, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. So will you marry me?”

Cas looks genuinely anxious as he pulls out a ring box.  _ As if I would say no _ . Dean starts to cackle, and Cas’s anxious look morphs into one of full-blown terror. “You  _ asshole _ ,” Dean manages to say. “Of  _ course _ you would propose first.”

Cas looks like somebody slapped him across the face. “What?”

Still laughing, Dean pulls  _ his _ ring box from his inside pocket. “Castiel James Novak, will you marry me?” He sobers up a little. “You know, you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me, Cas. I  _ know _ you inside and out and there’s nobody I’d rather be with.” Cas starts to grin. “Oh, and if you’re thinking I copied you, well, I didn’t. I  _ memorized _ that damn speech. Why do you think I wanted to leave school so fast? Harvard’s not that far away. I told Emma to expect us at her dorm at eight.”

“So you built in time to propose,” Cas says, his smile growing even wider.

“It’s a good thing tomorrow is a teacher workday and then it’s the weekend. I wanted to do the September 18th shit too,” Dean says. “You know, we banged on September 18th for the first time since you came back from Italy.”

Cas’s smile is gummy and splitting his face. “I didn’t want to bring it up at the time.”

Dean grins back. “So are we getting hitched or what?”

“I’d be a fool to say no.”

Dean cups Cas’s face in his hands and leans in across the bench seat. Soon enough they’re fooling around like horny teenagers. “I didn’t build in time to propose,” Dean grunts as Cas maneuvers them so he’s straddling Dean. “I built in time for  _ this _ .”

“You know, sex in a car is an offense,” Cas moans.

“It’s a deserted-  _ shit _ \- road. Took the scenic route,” Dean gasps.

“I guess we’ll just have to be-  _ shit, Dean _ \- very discreet.”

…

Emma, of course, smells the residual stink of sex as soon as she gets in the car. “Gross, guys,” she says, wrinkling her nose. Sometimes she wishes her sense of smell wasn’t this good.

“We had a good reason,” Dean says. “It’s not our fault that you’re a bloodhound. The windows were open pretty much the whole damn time.”

“ _ Really _ . Well, being horny isn’t a good reason. I would’ve stayed in my dorm if I had known.” The smell isn’t as bad as it is in their room sometimes, but Emma would rather not think of her dads…  _ doing it. _

Dean and Cas lift their entwined hands, and Emma catches sight of the rings. She helped both of them pick them out, but she’d never say that. “Congrats!” she yells.

“That not good enough for you?” Dean asks.

“It’s not like you’ve never…  _ copulated _ in here,” Cas grumbles.

“Shut up shut up shut up,” Emma squeaks, wrinkling her nose again. She  _ never _ wants to think about the lecture she got from her dads after banging Claire in the car. “I’m still happy for you guys.”

“You better be, ‘cause you’re officiating,” Dean says.

“If that’s all right with you,” Cas adds.

Emma raises her eyebrows. It’s been three years, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to having such a big place in their lives. “Really?”

“Of course, Emster,” Dean says.

“Well, I’m glad Josie and Aidan got drunk-hitched, then, ‘cause now I don’t have to do jack shit to prepare. I’ll have to call and thank them for making me officiate theirs, then.”

“All right, now that we’ve got that out of the way- you don’t have any Sox merch, do you?” Dean says, turning around and glaring at her.

“Eyes on the road, Dean,” Cas reminds him.

“No, I don’t have Sox shit.” Emma scowls. “Why would I do that?”

“Fucking Massachusetts, man,” Dean growls. “You could still get your scholarship to Columbia, you know. Or NYU,” he jokes.

Emma rolls her eyes. “Harvard Law is the best program in the country. I’m not transferring for  _ shit _ .”

“Fine,” Dean grumbles.

“Sam just texted me. Their flight just landed,” Cas says.

“Perfect. Tell him we’re almost there,” Dean replies.

Emma hasn’t seen Sam and Sarah in a month, but Sam gave her all his first-year notes, so she’s brought him a Harvard hoodie as thanks. It’s super warm, so she figures he’ll have no qualms about wearing it. They drive to the airport as fast as they can, Dean lamenting the fact that she had to go to New England, Cas chuckling quietly and holding Dean’s hand, and Emma just sitting in amazement at how far she’s come.

…

Castiel cannot  _ believe _ that he’s marrying Dean Winchester.

He also cannot  _ believe _ that Dean put Elvis as the soundtrack for the whole “walk to the altar” moment.

It’s unbelievably cheesy, but as “Can’t Help Falling In Love” plays and Dean comes into view, Cas feels like he’s floating.

The green silk of Dean’s tie makes his eyes glow. Threads are woven through his simple charcoal suit, making raised yet subtle floral patterns. His freckles dot his cheeks, and his hair is swept up in a slightly fancier version of his usual hairstyle. He looks  _ radiant. _

Cas is a lucky, lucky man.

He barely hears Emma speaking over the  _ thump _ of his heartbeat. “Do you, Castiel James Novak, take Dean Michael Winchester to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” Cas thanks the Lord that he didn’t choke. Or spit. Or cough. Or sneeze. He might have to sniff, though, because he’s getting teary.

“And do you, Dean Michael Winchester, take Castiel James Novak to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” Dean’s gravelly voice sends chills shooting down Cas’s spine.

“You may now kiss the groom. Please don’t make it too gross,” Emma says.

The crowd laughs as Cas pulls Dean in by the tie. Dean is warm and his lips part easily under Cas’s. He doesn’t want to scar his daughter for life, so he refrains from ‘slipping tongue.’ They pull away from each other. “I love you,” Cas says.

“I love you too,” Dean replies. He pulls Cas in for another peck on the lips. “Mr. Winchester-Novak.”

Cas grins. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing that, Mr. Winchester-Novak,” he tells Dean as they walk back down the aisle.

“You know, it took us a decade or so, but I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”

…

Dean refrains from getting hammered at the reception, because he knows Cas won’t bang him and he doesn’t want to ruin their honeymoon with a hangover. He looks wistfully at the open bar- and catches Emma trying to order alcohol. “Hey! Don’t ruin my wedding by making me have to supervise you for the rest of the night,” Dean warns.

“Fine, old man,” Emma jokes. “It’s not like you weren’t drinking at my age.”

“Word to the wise- don’t act like eighteen-year-old me,” Dean says. “Now let me go dance with my  _ husband _ in peace for the rest of the time we have here.”

“Congrats, Dean.” Emma takes a sip from her virgin Shirley Temple. “Really.”

Dean feels a surge of fondness for his kid. He ruffles his hair. “Thanks, Emster.”

Emma raises her glass to him and goes to find Claire.

Dean makes his way back to Cas, who’s talking with Sam. He pinches his husband’s ass- his  _ husband _ !- and slings his arm around his gigantor brother. “What’s up, Samsquatch?”

“We’re both married men now!” Sam grins.

Dean frowns and looks at Sam closely. “You’re drunk.”

Sarah stumbles over, even drunker than Sam. “Me?”

Dean laughs. It’s almost the end of the night, anyways, and there’s practically nobody left. “I’ve called them a cab,” Cas says. “It should be here now.”

“Go back to the hotel and sleep it off, guys.” Dean slaps Sam on the back.

Sam and Sarah stumble out of the venue. Dean turns to  _ his husband _ . “Think we should follow their lead?” Dean asks with a wink.

Cas smiles at him fondly. “There’s only Claire and Emma left…” He trails off. “I’m sure they can get back to their room themselves.”

Dean pulls out his phone and sends a text to Emma. “Let’s go.”

They hurry out into a cab, making out in the backseat like the stereotypical newlyweds. “By the way-  _ fuck _ \- I bought you a new coffeemaker. Same model as the old one, but it’s improved,” Dean groans between kisses.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas replies, his words hot on Dean’s mouth. “Also-  _ shit, Dean _ \- Emma took care of the dishwasher for us.”

“Mother _ fucker _ \- I’ll call and say thanks in the morning,” Dean says. Cas’s hand glints in the moonlight filtering through the window. It’s still weird to see Dean’s mom’s ring on Cas’s finger. 

Dean shivers at the thought of that finger in his ass.

The drive to their hotel is quick. The second they’re in the elevator, Dean yanks off Cas’s silk tie and suit jacket. He unbuttons Cas’s shirt, fervently running his hands over Cas’s hot, tanned chest. His fingertips brush over Cas’s nipple, and Cas moans. Cas makes quick work of Dean’s jacket, tie, and shirt, and he drops Dean’s pants as they enter the hotel room. Cas’s hands brush over Dean’s cock. “Fuck, Cas.” Dean fumbles with Cas’s pants and  _ finally _ manages to get them off of him. Cas yanks off both their boxers and pulls a bottle of Astroglide from the nightstand. Dean pulls them down onto the bed.

The cap to the lube pops open and Dean watches as Cas slicks up his fingers. Cas kisses him again, slow and sweet, a sharp contrast to the finger sliding into Dean’s ass and Cas’s other hand pinching Dean’s nipple. “ _ Dean _ ,” Cas groans.

“Fuck, Cas!” Dean cries as Cas’s finger hits his prostate. Cas slides the next one in, and Dean pulls away from Cas’s mouth to bite at the bolt of his jaw. Cas throws his head back and moans, long and rough, as Dean kisses his way to the juncture of Cas’s neck and shoulder.

Soon the third finger is in Dean’s ass and Cas is scissoring them against his prostate. “I’m going to fuck you nice and slow,” Cas rumbles, his breath hot on Dean’s neck. Dean’s dick twitches between them.

Cas pulls his fingers out and slicks up his cock. He slides in slowly, fucking Dean from the back, and once he bottoms out he starts to thrust slowly. The burn is a little painful at first, but once Cas hits his prostate, they  _ really _ get going. “Shit, Cas! Just like that-  _ yes _ , come on-  _ fuck! _ ”

“I want to see you,” Cas moans. “I want to see you when you come.” With a few deft, strong movements that leave Dean’s dick aching, Dean’s legs are wrapped around Cas and he can see Cas’s beautiful blue eyes. Well, there isn’t a lot of blue showing at the moment. Dean smiles smugly at that- until Cas thrusts particularly roughly and fireworks explode in Dean’s vision, wiping any other thoughts from mind. “Dean, you’re so  _ tight _ .”

Dean pulls Cas down into a searing kiss as Cas’s thrusts get harder and slower, hitting Dean’s prostate every time. It only takes a few more thrusts before Dean finds himself at the edge. “Jesus- motherfucking- holy Christ, Cas, I’m gonna-”

Cas pulls out of the kiss and stares at Dean unblinkingly as he gets closer and closer. Cas’s thrusts are stuttering now, and soon Cas is saying “Dean- Dean, I’m going- Jesus  _ Christ! _ ” and shooting into Dean’s ass.

For some reason, Dean finds Cas’s filthy words the key to orgasm, and he stares into Cas’s eyes as he spurts all over Cas’s chest. “Fuck!” Chest heaving, he watches as Cas drags two fingers through the mess on his chest and sticks them into his mouth. “Shit, Cas,” he moans. “Shit, you’re hot.”

Cas runs his fingers through the come again and pulls Dean’s lip down. He pushes his fingers into Dean’s mouth, and through the salty tang of come, Dean can taste Cas’s fingers. Cas looks almost ethereal.

Cas pulls out and collapses beside Dean, both of them sweaty and debauched. Dean rolls over so that he’s facing Cas. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who read this fic, everyone who left kudos, everyone who commented, everyone who bookmarked, and a special thanks to my beta, @Winchester17  
> god. in this fic my indian-ness really shone through. got that bollywood sensationalism amirite?  
> this was my first long-ish fic! i wasn't able to do as much as i wanted with it, but i'm pretty proud of it. it's probably not as realistic as i'd like, but for the life of me i can't figure some of this shit out. all in all, if it made y'all smile even once i consider it a success. thank you for reading this- it's been a wild month writing it!

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully whoever reads this likes it! Feel free to leave a comment about anything you didn't like/did like/whatever!  
> tumblr: @supernaturalsbestcouple (I post mostly SPN and MCU)


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